


Almost Winter

by JeSuisLePomme



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Autumn, Canon-Typical Violence, Cooking, Couch Cuddles, Friendship, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Male Friendship, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 69,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8329621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeSuisLePomme/pseuds/JeSuisLePomme
Summary: "He dreaded seeing the green change to orange and the days grow shorter and shorter; he dreaded feeling that chill little snap in the air and watching as the grass faded to grey, because he knew what it meant. It meant that winter was coming, and when winter came, it was possible he’d never see another spring."





	1. Seasons

The years passed. For as long as he remembered, it had been the same cycle, the same story. Spring was hopeful, in a way. Spring was a sign that winter was coming to an end, because the winter was terrible, all sleet and bitter winds and nowhere to hide. Summer was okay, steamy with a blazing sun overhead but _okay_ , far better than winter. Fall. Kite hated fall most of all. It was a terrible reminder that winter was, in fact, coming, just like every year. He dreaded seeing the green change to orange and the days grow shorter and shorter; he dreaded feeling that chill little snap in the air and watching as the grass faded to grey, because he knew what it meant. It meant that winter was coming, and when winter came, it was possible he’d never see another spring.

So fall filled Kite with a sort of grim acceptance. He knew he couldn’t stop winter from coming. It would, whether he liked it or not. Even if he dreaded it with his entire being and wished it away, it would still come like clockwork. Most of the city’s residents _liked_ fall. It was a stifling hot sort of place, and fall offered a nice respite from the familiar blazing summer. Suddenly, they could get their favorite pumpkin flavored things again, and they got to bring out their favorite clothes that were much too wintry for the spring or summer, but just perfect as _fall_ rolled around. He started to wonder if he would rather just skip it altogether, skip all of the falls and all of the winters, but he could never quite bring himself to do it.

Kite wasn’t really one to get so introspective. He understood seasons just fine, and he wasn’t going to deny his _situation._ He tried to change it, once upon a time, but it was near impossible, he found, so he tried not to dwell on it _too_ much. There were even periods where he _wasn’t_ homeless, periods where he could find work for even just a while, at places where people didn’t _care_ , and those periods weren’t that terrible. He had even tried to save up his money over the spring and summer, so when the weather started to turn chilly, he would have enough to escape indoors for the whole winter season, but he had learned quick enough that holding onto money wasn’t _really_ the best idea. He had learned quite a few lessons like that, he supposed.

So why was he so introspective all of a sudden? Well, staring down the throat of a gun generally did that to a person.

He recognized the man on the other end; he was one of the ones who had taught him that valuable lesson about carrying around money, and apparently, he thought he hadn’t taught it very well. How desperate was the man, Kite wondered? He knew there were people that had it a lot worse than himself, but Kite couldn’t even imagine threatening to _kill_ someone for money. He didn’t find himself particularly desirous to ask what it felt like; in fact, he found that all of his vocabulary had mysteriously left him, and he was quite unable to say anything at all. Quite unable to even call for help. Well, he supposed, this would fix his problem. It was just the beginning September; winter was knocking on everyone’s doorstep. If he died now, he definitely wouldn’t have to worry about the cold and sleet and wind anymore. The only thing he would regret was that the man would get nothing for his trouble. He was risking a lifetime of jail, and Kite wasn’t even carrying anything worth stealing.

He closed his eyes, letting the sound of the man demanding his money fade away into white noise. He waited for the bang, and then, there would be blissful nothingness. No more worry. No more fall. No more winter. But nothing ever came. Suddenly, he became very aware of another voice yelling. “Hey, what are you doing?” it demanded. “Oh my God, is that a gun?” It was painted by shock, staining the deep timbre with a sort of panic. Kite opened his eyes.

Suddenly, he became very aware of the fact that he didn’t _want_ to die. He didn’t want to die, even if it meant an infinity of falls and winters, because in the end, he supposed he liked living. He didn’t quite know what the alternative was. So he jumped up, and he kneed the man with the gun in the stomach. It was sloppy and it sent Kite faltering forward, but it met its target, pushing the man back against the concrete wall of the alleyway. Kite tried to regain his footing as the man struggled to do the same. There was the sound of thunderous footfalls as the owner of the other voice sprinted over. Kite breathlessly turned, his eyes meeting a pair of concerned amber ones. A gentle hand rested on his shoulder, steadying him. 

“Are you okay?” the man asked. He wasn’t particularly tall, a little short actually. He had messy, dark hair, pushed back by a headband, and he was wearing casual clothes. His expression was worried, brow furrowed and mouth slightly agape as he stared up at Kite’s face. “Hey, man, are you alright?” Kite fumbled for the right words and neither of them noticed that the criminal had regained his footing, stumbling upright and pulling something out of his ratty jacket. It was a knife, glinting in the light of the noonday sun. He had dropped his gun when he hit the wall and it had seemingly slid across the concrete and underneath a dumpster.

“You little shit!” he yelled, pointing the knife at them dangerously. “I’m going to end your miserable life!” Kite was still wordless, still breathless and heaving. His savior shook his head, tightening his grip on Kite’s shoulder.

“Chill out, man!” he said. “Just get lost.” It didn’t seem to appeal to the criminal. He lunged forward, slashing at Kite. Fortunately, his movement was uncoordinated and sloppy. Unfortunately, the blade’s tip still hacked across his shoulder, tearing through his shirt and leaving a thin line of red across his pale flesh; droplets of crimson bubbled up across the wound, staining the ripped edges of the fabric. The other man reacted quickly, pushing him back harshly. The criminal slammed against the wall, again. “I’m going to call the police!” Kite’s rescuer exclaimed.

The criminal seemed to come to his senses a little, at least, realizing that he probably couldn’t fight the both of them at once; he dropped the knife, limping quickly out of the alleyway and out of their view. Kite’s rescuer whipped around, blinking owlishly at the quickly spreading blood. Kite looked back at him, opening his mouth and then closing it while gripping at the stinging wound. “Oh my GOD, you’re bleeding,” the man sputtered. “Come on, let’s go back to my apartment. I’ll fix it up. Man, you could have _died._ What the hell was that guy’s problem?”

Kite just shook his head. He knew it was probably a bad idea to follow the man back to his apartment, but the cut really stung and he was feeling a little disoriented, so it wasn’t difficult for the man to lead him away. He dragged him out onto the street, and a short distance down it, coming to a halt in front of a nice-looking apartment complex. He helped Kite up the stairs, before wrenching the door open and ushering him inside. Then, he called down the elevator and they road up in silence.

“My apartment is down here,” he explained as he guided him down the hall with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m not trying to, like, overwhelm you or something. I just feel terrible and you could probably use a little help patching that scratch up. Oh no… you don’t think you need to go to a hospital, do you? Why am I so dumb?! Hold on - do I need to call an ambulance?”

Kite shook his head quickly, trying to find his words again. “Um…” he said dumbly. “I’m fine.”

"You got… you got knifed!” the man retorted. “Let me look at it. Uh. It doesn’t look that deep, I guess… I’ll just wrap it up… As long as you keep it clean it probably won’t get infected.” Kite wanted to tell him not to bother, that he probably wouldn’t be able to keep it clean anyway, but he didn’t. The man started dragging him down the hall again, stopping in front of a door and shoving his key in shakily, unlocking the door. Then he pushed it open and pulled Kite inside.

It was a nice enough apartment, furnished comfortably and decorated minimally. Kite didn’t have much of a chance to look around as he was hastily pulled into a clean, white bathroom and sat down on the edge of a tub. The man instructed him to take off his shirt, and Kite complied without complaint. The man was squatting down in front of the cabinet, pulling out first aid supplies and setting them on the countertop. Then, he seemed to remember something, and he pivoted to face him.

“My name is Ging, by the way. Ging Freecs,” he said, and he extended a hand which Kite awkwardly shook. “It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Kite,” Kite said uneasily.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kite,” Ging said, standing up and walking over to him, flipping down the toilet seat and picking up a bottle. He emptied some of its contents out onto a circular pad, before reaching up to blot it on Kite’s shoulder, but he hesitated. “Um, this might sting a little,” he said with a soft chuckle. Kite nodded, and Ging went about trying to clean the wound. It did sting, but Kite tried to take it with a straight face, gripping the edge of the tub tight enough to turn his fingers white and gritting his teeth. Ging smiled, his expression contemplative. “My kid hates this part,” he said lightly.

“Kid?”

“Yeah, my kid Gon. He hates getting taken care of but he gets hurt all the time,” Ging said, “He’s a fiery little kid. Ha. Cute, too. He looks like his dad.” Kite didn’t respond, gritting his teeth as Ging patted the cut. He pulled away. “Yeah, I think that’s done. Hold on, let me look for the Neosporin. Wait. Do I put Band-Aids on it? I don’t think I have any Band-Aids big enough…”

“It’s okay,” Kite muttered. He wasn’t particularly concerned about how the wound would be covered; after all, when he left, it wasn’t like he was going to have any way to change it. He was more worried about his shirt (his favorite shirt) and the fact that it was shredded across the shoulder and covered in his blood. (Had he left his bag in the alleyway? Damn, he’d have to go back quick if he was going to reclaim it…) 

“I mean, it’s really not,” Ging said, pulling out a box of Band-Aids and looking inside. “You got cut by a _knife._ That’s like, really _metal_ , but also kind of bad, don’t you think? You need to take care of this stuff or it’ll get infected and then you’ll _actually_ have to go to a doctor.” He said it like going to a doctor would definitely be one of the worst things in the world. Kite frowned. He couldn’t afford to go to a doctor, even if he wanted to, so he supposed there was some merit behind Ging’s words.

“Okay,” he consented, and Ging started trying to cover the wound with Band-Aids. It was about three or four inches long, but not very wide. Eventually, he was able to string them together in a way that covered it but didn’t actually apply any of the sticky parts onto the wound. Ging smiled at his handy work, leaning back and crossing his arms as he nodded.

“Man, I’m good,” he said, “So, um, yeah, your shirt… I can try to wash it if you want. In the meantime, you can borrow one of mine I guess. You can like, shower, if you want, too. I bet you feel kind of gross after that guy knocked you down onto the ground in that alleyway. I mean, I would take you back to your house, but you seem a little… rattled still, and your shirt is still pretty jacked… so, you know…” Kite assented again, and Ging left to go find a shirt, leaving him with instructions on how to turn the shower on (the handle was confusing, apparently) and where to find towels.

Once Kite had showered, he stepped out to find some clothes sitting on the counter. Ging had taken it upon himself to wash all of his clothes instead of just his shirt, and Kite supposed he was glad. It did feel nice to had clean clothes for once, even if it was a little discomforting to wear Ging’s and the situation was, all in all and despite Ging’s best efforts, overwhelming. After he had dressed, he stepped outside the bathroom, looking around the kitchen and living room.  It was a nice little apartment. There were two doors lining the wall the bathroom was on, and two more across the attached living room and kitchen. He saw Ging sitting on one of the sofas, texting someone. He walked over awkwardly. He could hear the laundry running from somewhere in the kitchen. Ging looked up as he approached.

“Eh? You’re looking a little better,” he said. “I think my shirt’s a little big and my pants are a little… short. You’re really tall, huh?” Kite nodded wordlessly. He was tall, he supposed. “Well, doesn’t matter. So… not trying to be invasive or something, but where do you live?”

“What?” Kite asked, blinking.

“Where… like, what side of town do you live on?”

Kite’s mind went blank. Where _did_ he live? He had lived on the west side of town a little while back, but he didn’t live there anymore. Before that, he a lived in another part of the west side of town, but that was a long time before that. For the most part, he lived on the streets, but that wasn’t really a proper answer. After a few moment of flounder, he answered shakily with a simple: “Neither,” which, granted, wasn’t a proper answer either. Ging looked confused.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked. “I meant, like, where’s your apartment or house or whatever? After your clothes are clean, I’d be glad to drive you wherever that is, now that you’re looking a little… calmer. But you really shouldn’t be walking around alone while you’re hurt like that, so I’m going to drive you for sure.” Kite shook his head.

“I… I don’t live anywhere,” he said, and he hoped his face wasn’t as red as it was hot. He had never really had to… spell out his homelessness to someone before, but it still didn’t seem to sink in. Ging looked even more confused than before, shaking his head.

“You have to live somewhere,” he said. Kite furrowed his brow, cursing the man’s stupidity.

“I’m homeless,” he said finally, feeling less embarrassed now and more just annoyed that he had to say it so simply, but then the meaning of his words sunk in and he ducked his head, staring down at the carpet. Ging would probably kick him out; he couldn’t think of any other way for the man to react.

“Oh,” he heard him say, and then after a short pause: “You’ll have to stay here, then.”

 

x-x

 

Ging had insisted very adamantly that he stay, maintaining that he wouldn’t have it any other way when Kite tried to protest. And Kite did try to protest. He tried to tell him it wasn’t a smart thing to do. Surely he didn’t have that sort of money, and Kite didn’t have any way to pay him back at the time. Surely he didn’t want to expose his son to that sort of thing, and Kite definitely wasn’t the type of person a _good_ father would want his child to be around. Ging, however, was very adamant, waving away all of his counters by saying that they had plenty of space in the apartment, a whole guest bedroom, and that Kite really looked too skinny and there wasn’t any other sort of way that he’d rather spend his money even if Kite was never able to pay him back a single dime. Then, he went into the kitchen, completely set on making Kite some sort of food to eat.

Kite sat on the edge of the couch, watching him anxiously. There was no way Ging would just let him stay (Kite wouldn’t let _himself_ stay) without any sort of recompense. Maybe he could find a job, even though he’d never had much luck with that in the past. He was interrupted from his musings by Ging, talking in the kitchen while he made a grilled cheese. “Heh, I really am pretty dumb, though, huh?” he said. “Sorry to make you, you know, feel uncomfortable or whatever. I _probably_ should have been able to figure that out. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you though, yeah?”

“It’s okay,” Kite replied, watching him intently as he moved around the kitchen.

“I mean, it’s really not,” Ging said, grinning slightly at his repetition of his earlier words. “Sorry. But, like, I don’t want to make you feel weird about it. I… I don’t want to pry, but how old are you? You look pretty… pretty young.”

“I’m eighteen,” Kite answered slowly, narrowing his eyes.

“What? But you’re so… so _tall._ That’s not fair; you’re just a kid!” Ging snorted. “Well, I’m twenty-six. Eye for an eye and all that. My kid, Gon, he’s _six_. Oh man, I bet he’ll be excited to meet you. He loves everyone, like, right away. He’s a good kid.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, he’s a lot of trouble, but he’s a good kid,” Ging said, looking thoughtful. “His mom died,” he admitted suddenly, completely unprompted. “That’s … kind of heavy. Just thought you might have wondered. I don’t think he remembers her at all. He was only a year or so old when it happened.”

“I’m sorry…”

“In the past,” Ging replied, throwing a little, sad sort of smile at him. “Man, that is heavy. I’m depressing myself. Anyway, eat this. You’re as skinny as a bean or whatever that saying is. Look, I know you’re feeling weird about this, but I really do want you to stay. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I just threw some wounded kid back out on the street. See, I’m just a selfish old man.”

Kite accepted the food. “You’re not old.”

“A flatterer, huh?” Ging said, raising a playful eyebrow as he sat down on one of the chairs next to the couch where Kite was sitting. “Well, that won’t work on me, Kite. I’m _immune_. I grew up with my younger cousin, so I know _all about it._ ”

“I wasn’t trying to…”

“I know.” The man grinned. “Anyway, Gon gets out of school in a few hours. You should probably rest up until them. After he gets here, there’ll be _no_ resting. He’s a little ball of FIRE! Speaking of resting, I should probably make sure the guest bedroom is actually _clean._ ” He laughed awkwardly, standing up and patting Kite on the shoulder before walking over to the door closest to the kitchen, pulling it open and walking inside. It swung partially closed behind him so Kite couldn’t actually see him anymore. Instead, he focused on eating. He couldn’t really remember the last time he had a proper meal. It had been a while; he knew that much. He was lucky to find scraps most days. The last time he had had a ‘meal’ was at the end of spring, if he remembered properly. He figured if Ging was hospitable, he should take advantage of the luxury while it lasted.

After about ten minutes, Ging reemerged from the bedroom, looking proud of himself. “Got it all fixed up,” he announced. “You all done? You can go rest, if you want. I bet you’re like, tired or something. Had quite a day. It’s not every day you get held up at gunpoint, after all. Have a nice nap; you definitely deserve it.” He took the plate from him, insisting on washing it himself, so Kite stood up slowly, walking into the guest bedroom. It was a plain, small sort of room, but Kite couldn’t argue that it wasn’t comfortable. He walked over to the bed, sitting down gingerly. He was rather tired… after a few moments, he fell asleep sitting up.

He woke up some unknowable amount of time later, but he noted that there were panels of orange cast across the ceiling from the setting sun. He was inside, and it took him a few minutes to remember why; by the time he remembered, he was aware of the fact that he lying down and under the covers and that there were a pair of eyes watching him from the doorway. He looked over cautiously, trying to quell the anxiety that bloomed in his chest.

There was a child watching him from the door, squatting down secretively and staring up with big, golden eyes. The resemblance was definitely noticeable. Ging and his son shared the same, turned up sort of nose and the same round, earnest eyes, not to mention the dark hair, equally messy, and the small build. The boy seemed to perk up, surprisingly, when he noticed Kite had woken up and caught him. He grinned brightly, standing up and running over to the bed. “Hi,” he said. “My name is Gon.”

“Hi,” Kite said slowly. “My name is… Kite.”

“That’s what Daddy told me,” Gon replied. “He said you were going to stay here. What do you like to do? I like to draw! And I like going to school, because they teach us about butterflies and bugs and stuff. Do you know anything about butterflies and bugs and stuff?” Kite shook his head, at a sort of loss for what to say, and Gon looked disappointed. “Oh…” Kite felt rather glum at the saddened tone. For some odd reason, he craved the boy’s approval, and he had already disappointed him… but then Gon perked up, a smile pulling at his lips again. “Well, that’s okay! I can teach you all about it! Wait right there!” Gon sprinted out the door and into the room next to the guest bedroom.

Kite pulled back the covers, swinging his legs over the side of bed. The clock next to the bed read ‘5:25’ in bold red letters, and he rubbed at his eyes before trying to cover a yawn with his hand. He did feel much better after resting. Outside of the guest bedroom, he could hear that the apartment was quiet; there was a few, faint sounds as someone moved around outside, possibly in the kitchen, but for the most part, he could only hear faint mutterings from a TV and the sound of footsteps as someone walked about. After a few minutes, Gon returned, looking pleased with himself as he threw a book down on the bed, climbing up after it.

“Look at this,” he said, opening the book up and pointing at a picture of a butterfly. “This is a butterfly. It used to be a caterpillar.” He said it very informatively, like it was some sort of secret knowledge that only doctoral-level butterfly experts might know. Kite nodded his acceptance of the fact. “And look at this, it’s an _ant,_ ” Gon said, turning the page. “We had some of these in the house, once, and Daddy said it was bad, but I didn’t really mind.” Kite nodded again; Ging wasn’t joking when he said the child loved everyone, and Gon certainly wasn’t shy. At the moment, Kite felt a lot shyer than the child was acting, and he was the adult in the room. “Look at this!” Gon exclaimed, picking up the book and shoving towards him. That particular page held a picture of a spider.

“It’s a… spider,” Kite said.

“Yeah!” Gon exclaimed, giggling. “Isn’t it cool? We have these in the house sometimes too… Daddy really doesn’t like these, but I think they’re _awesome_!” The child giggled, and Kite couldn’t help smiling. Kids were funny. Neither of them noticed Ging appearing in the doorframe wearing a curious expression, apparently having noticed the noise. 

“Gon!” he said as he noticed his child on the bed, sounding exasperated. “Gon, I thought I asked you not to bother Kite until he woke up on his own. He needs to rest, buddy.” Gon looked disappointed, but adamant.

“I was just telling him about bugs, Daddy,” he protested. “He said he didn’t know about _bugs_ and that’s really sad.” He held up the book to show him.

“I’m sure he knows about bugs, kid,” Ging said, sounding mildly unimpressed. “Now come on, you never finished coloring that picture for me and I want to put it on my fridge.” Gon was easily distracted, abandoning his book and jumping off the bed, running past his father and into the living room. Ging watched him go, but then turned around to face his guest, walking over and picking up the discarded book. “Sorry about that, Kite,”’ he said earnestly. “He really wanted to meet you ever since I picked him up at school earlier. Tried to tell him you needed rest, but hey, he’s a kid. They don’t get that stuff.”

“It’s okay,” Kite said honestly. “He’s sweet.” Ging snorted.

“Yeah, too sweet for his own good,” he retorted sarcastically. “Anyway, you can come and chill on the couch or something if you want now that you’ve so rudely been woken up, or if you’d rather try to sleep some more, that’s cool too. Man, I’m making some soup out here; fall is soup weather. First pot I’ve made this year, so it has to be good, right?” He chuckled too himself, retreating from the bedroom.

Kite stretched out, thinking about what he’d said. The days were getting shorter and shorter, and the air was cooling however marginally, and Kite couldn’t help the little furl of worry in his chest. Fall was upon them, and he knew he couldn’t stay with Ging more than a few days. After that, it’d be back out on the street, out into the fall, awaiting the winter. He sighed. Apparently, being held at gunpoint makes a person introspective for a _while_ ; he used to never dwell on the fact that the seasons changed, because there was nothing _he_ could do about it. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, standing up and stretching before walking out of the guest bedroom.

Gon was sitting on the carpet in the living room, happily coloring. He looked up as Kite approached, grinning, before going back to his work. Ging was sitting on one of the couches, flicking at the screen of his smartphone. Kite walked over of the chair, sitting down carefully. Ging looked over at him and smiled before going back to his work. Kite entertained himself with watching a combination of Gon and the television, which was playing news on a near mute over on its stand a few feet away, but he found that Gon was the much more entertaining on the two.

Kite liked the kid. He knew it wasn’t beneficial in any way for him to, but he couldn’t help it. Gon had a contagious smile and a sweet personality. ‘Coloring’ a picture, apparently, relied more on rolling around on the floor instead of actually coloring, and Kite couldn’t stop the smile that played at his lips as he watched the energetic child. Gon was probably never still, and he imagined that Ging _really_ had his hands full, but was there any better way to be busy? Gon giggled to himself as he laid down some out-of-place brown on his drawing, rolling over onto his back with the paper outstretched above him.

“I’m done!” he announced, and Ging set down his phone.

“Let me see, kid, I’m stoked,” he said, accepting the drawing from his son. He surveyed it, grinning, before holding it out for Kite to see. “Kite, man, check that out. I think we’ve got the next Picasso right here.” The coloring page was a scribble of mismatched colors, all going outside the lines, but Gon seemed pleased with himself so Kite nodded his agreement.

“It’s lovely,” he said.

“It sure is,” Ging replied, turning the page back to look at it himself. “This one is going on the fridge. And then I think we’ll be about ready to eat, so you two come on with yourselves.” Gon jumped up to his feet, following after his dad and smiling proudly as Ging pinned the picture up on the fridge. There was at least a dozen more like it there. After the coloring page had been properly displayed, Ging pulled out some bowls and doled out the soup, handing one to Kite and then carrying Gon’s and his own out of the kitchen and over to little table just off the tile flooring.

As they ate, Ging told Kite about where he worked, a company downtown, and about how he really didn’t like the bureaucracy of it all. Apparently, someone had died and they were having an _election_ for the associate position. They, being a board he served on for junior associates. It was a mess, to hear him tell it, and he was quite put out about it. Kite, however, got the impression that he was enjoying it a little more than he let on, but he went along with it anyway. After Gon had finished his meal, sitting there humming to himself and swinging his feet against his chair, Ging ushered him off to take a bath. As he shepherded him towards the bathroom, he turned to Kite.

“Hey, Kite, if you could just sit right there, I want to chat for a few seconds, okay?”

“Okay,” Kite said. Ging smiled at him before going after his child to help him start up the tub. Kite started to feel concern grow up inside him as he waited. Ging was probably going to tell him to leave, that he didn’t feel like it was safe for Gon to be around him and that it was a nuisance to have another person around for even a few days longer. And honestly, Kite couldn’t blame him; if he were a father, he wouldn’t want his six-year-old son near some random homeless man he had found getting robbed at gunpoint, and he certainly wouldn’t want to have to worry about the extra expenses of having an additional person living in his house.

Ging came back after only a few minutes, smiling tightly as he sat down. “Okay, hey,” he said casually. “So, yeah, I just wanted to really be upfront with you and stuff.”

“Okay,” Kite replied, assuming that his predictions were, in fact, true.

“I really am a selfish old man,” Ging joked. “I… I want you to stay. For a while. Like not for a few days or something; I’d feel terrible turning you back onto the street, and there’s no way I can explain that to Gon when he’s older, so… so you have to stick around for a while. At least until you can get on your feet. Wait, don’t complain. I’m not going to listen. You have to stay here unless you actually plan on literally running away. Which would be really uncool.”

“Oh.”

“So you’ll stay?”

“I… yes.”

“Great! Let’s go watch some TV until Gon gets done taking his bath. You game? I haven’t watched TV with someone over the age of six in like a billion years.” Ging pulled him into the living room by his arm, depositing him on one of the couch before occupying the other himself. “Heh, let’s watch an adult show. But we have to change it when Gon gets back.”

Kite nodded, only half watching as Ging put on some trashy sitcom. The living room was stained gold, and Kite found his attention drawn to the sunset outside the window. The whole _city_ was bathed in orange light, the buildings just dark silhouettes on the crimson skyline. Then he noted the leaves on the tree just outside the window. Their tips were turning orange.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave your comments below and let me know what you think! Thanks to my beta Abby (@Twelfthpaldi) for her help with this fic.


	2. Babysitter

They had met on a Monday, and the next few days fell into a comfortable sort of cadence. Ging, of course, had to go back to work, and every morning, he would take Gon along with him, dropping him off at a friend’s house until school. He would get back later in the afternoon, bringing Gon with him. Kite could only assume that Gon went back to said friend’s house until Ging left work. For the most part, Kite stayed in the apartment and tried to help out however possible, although he found that his ability to help was rather limited. You could only clean up so many places so often, and he tried to make dinner after receiving Ging’s grateful approval, but that was apparently not his forte. Ging insisted that it was fine, good even, but he couldn’t help but feel like his cooking was a little subpar.

The knife wound was doing well; it wasn’t showing any signs of infection and every night, Ging would force Kite to sit down on the edge of the tub before bed so he could change the Band-Aids. The man seemed to want to do it himself, insisting that if Kite tried to change them, it probably wouldn’t get covered properly or something and then the wound would get infected and Ging would have _no_ choice but to take him to a doctor, a fate neither of them wanted, so Kite relented.

“You know,” he said Thursday night after instructing Kite to strip off his shirt and sit down. “I don’t think this is what Band-Aids are for… maybe I should try to find some… gauze or something.”

“It’s probably fine,” Kite retorted. Over the past couple days, he found himself growing more comfortable in Ging’s presence, his words coming a little easier and with more fluidity. “You don’t need to go to all that trouble. It’ll heal up fine either way.”

“I guess…” Ging still looked thoughtful, looking at the wound critically and making Kite shift around. “It’s weird. Gon gets hurt all the time, like, you know that. He’s scrapped both his knees and both his elbows since you got here, but I never really feel like I can’t take care of those… This though, this thing was made with a knife, and honestly, it kind of freaks me out.” Kite laughed softly.

“Yes, well,” he said. “There’s nothing really different about it.”

“You only think that because you’re, like, super metal! Don’t deny it; I already know it’s true. You literally kicked a guy with a gun in the stomach. That’s really hardcore,” Ging said, starting to apply the Neosporin to the wound. “Why was that guy doing that anyway? I mean, you told me the other day you weren’t involved in any… gangs or anything. So what was his problem?”

“He had stolen money from me before.”

“Wait, what?”

“Money. He had stolen my money before.”

“Oh. Wow. Did you report it to the police or something? ‘Cause that’s, like, a crime,” Ging said simply, “Wait, do we need to report what happened to the police? Oh man, has it been too _long_ to report it to the police?” Kite laughed outright at that.

“Please. I highly doubt the police would _care,_ Ging,” he said. “There’s no point.”

“But… he robbed you,” Ging said, “And then he was going to kill you!”

“Yes, he robbed _me,_ and then he tried to kill _me,_ ” Kite said blandly. “So, I doubt the police will care.” Ging didn’t look pleased with the response, but he didn’t say anything else as he doctored the wound. After he finished, he put everything away.

“Hey, that chicken you made was… better,” Ging said. “You cooked it the right amount of time, and you know, it’s really nice to have something to eat when I get home that I don’t have to make.” He laughed, pushing back his bangs.

“Better is an improvement,” Kite said, feeling fairly bad about the chicken incident. It _was_ edible though, which _was,_ technically, an improvement.

“Yeah, you bet!” Ging replied enthusiastically. “Hey, you’ll have to try again tomorrow if you want. Me and Gon aren’t picky. Why don’t you try making… grilled cheeses?” Kite appreciated that he tried to make those little sorts of hints and suggestions.

“I will,” he replied, pulling back on his shirt. Ging started walking out of the bathroom.

“Well, I’m going to go to bed,” he said, walking into the living room with Kite trailing after him. “I’ll see you in the morning before I leave for work, probably. Wow, I can’t believe the weekend is almost here… um, Kite, you said the police wouldn’t care if that guy had killed you… but… well, I would care if he had. Yeah… Anyway, sleep good.” Then he walked into his room, not waiting for a reply, and shut it behind him. Kite walked across the living room, closing the door of the guest bedroom quietly behind him after he entered.

When had this routine been so comfortable? The last he recalled, he was living on the street with no friends to speak of, but now… was Ging his friend? He thought he was, probably. Ging seemed to enjoy doing things with him, inviting him to watch television in the evenings, and he was already planning a trip to some national park for the three of them that weekend. But the more Kite thought about it, the stranger it became. Why would he do it? Why would he invite a stranger into his home and try… to integrate him into his family? It wasn’t normal, wasn’t rational, and no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t quite figure it out.

Ging would probably want to talk about it, Kite thought. Ging was always ‘leveling’ with him, whatever that meant. He said he wanted to be open and honest. The whole situation was strange. Who invited a stranger into their home, a homeless stranger at that? He was pleased, in a grim sort of way, to note that Ging made an effort to never really leave him alone with Gon. It made him feel better to know that Ging didn’t quite trust him, because, if he were honest with himself, he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t trust him. Kite fell asleep comforted by the thought.

He woke up to the sound of Gon’s door slamming closed next to his own, pulling himself upright at the obtrusive reverberation. He blinked a few times, reminding himself where he was before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and rubbing at his eyes drowsily. Outside his room, he could hear muffled hints of Ging’s deep voice as the man got ready for work. Kite stood, walking over to the door and pulling it open. Ging looked over as he emerged, smiling as he tried to get Gon’s backpack ready for the day.

“Hey Kite. Did you sleep good?” he asked amicably, and at Kite’s nod, he continued. “I was going to let you sleep. Oh, yeah, I wanted to tell you. I’m going to be back a little early today. The guy that usually picks Gon and his own kid up from school has a doctor’s appointment, so I volunteered to start my weekend earlier and pick the kid up myself, but I’m going to grab his little friend too. Just wanted to give you a head’s up about that. Anyway, have a good day!” He pulled the straps of the bag over the child’s shoulders, hurrying him out the door with a hand on his back, waving at Kite as he left.

The day passed without incident or distinction. Kite tried to pick up like he usually did, carrying some of Gon’s toys back into the child’s room and putting away all of the crayons that had mysteriously spilled out on the carpet. After the parts of the house he felt comfortable venturing into were as clean as he could manage, he settled onto the couch with the book Ging had shoved at him a few days before, claiming he ‘had’ to read it. Kite didn’t really think he ‘had’ to, but he appreciated the suggestion anyway, and he enjoyed reading. Reading just for the sake of reading was something he didn’t have the opportunity to do very often, and he had to admit it was pleasant.

Unfortunately, days can rarely pass without any sort of incident. It happened around two; the phone started ringing, not an uncommon occurrence, Kite had found over the past few days. He wasn’t really comfortable answering it, so if it rang while Ging was away, he usually just left it to do so, watching anxiously from wherever he was until it stopped before going about his business. He was going to do the same thing, but after the ringing stopped, someone left a _message,_ and it wasn’t just someone but a familiar voice.

“Kite!” It was Ging. “Kite! Please answer the phone! I need you to do… to do a really big favor for me, man! Kite?” Kite stood up quickly, striding into the kitchen and pulling the phone off of its cradle. After a few moments of fumbling around trying to figure out exactly how to answer it, canvased by Ging’s frantic pleases, he eventually managed to activate the device, holding it up to his ear.

“Ging?” he questioned. “Sorry. I couldn’t figure out how to make it work.” He heard Ging sigh in relief on the other end and laugh breathily.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m just glad you answered. Anyway, I _really_ need to ask you to do something and it’s kind’ve a big favor but like, I didn’t know who else to ask… and… and, man, usually I try not to ask you to do stuff like this, but like… well, I can’t really leave work yet.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Gon gets out of school in thirty minutes, and you know how I told you that my friend that usually picks him up has like a doctor’s appointment and I offered to get Gon and that guy’s kid? Something came up at work, and I can’t actually… go,” Ging said, sounding vaguely uncomfortable. “Look, I know it’s a really big favor, but could you go and pick Gon and his friend up? I already called my friend and the teacher and told them and they said it was fine. I’d really, _really_ appreciate it. And I promise to give you instructions for the whole thing, so like, don’t panic or anything.”

“I’m not panicking,” Kite replied, feeling a little anxious but not really panicky yet. “I’ll do it. It’s fine. But… I don’t know where the school is or anything.”

“Oh, thank God. You’re a lifesaver, Kite,” Ging said earnestly. “Okay, so it’s about a mile from the apartment so I think you’ll be fine walking it. Um, the address is Thirty-Fifty-Four Devin Street. It’s kind of north of there.”

“I know where Devin Street is.”

“Okay, good. So go there, and you’ll probably be able to find the school. There’ll be buses and parents and stuff, and it’s, like, a big grey building. Once you get there, go inside and turn right. Go up those stairs and turn right again, and Gon’s classroom is, bam, right there,” he explained, and Kite could imagine him gesturing very animatedly as he delivered the instructions. “It’s, like… room 214 or something. Just tell the teacher who you are and she’ll probably remember what I told her. I really can’t thank you enough. You’re awesome. Do you remember where I showed you my phone number on the fridge? Yeah? When you get back to apartment, just call and let me know. Okay… thanks again, Kite.”

“It’s not a problem. I can do it.” Ging said goodbye and hung up, and Kite docked the phone, furrowing his brow as he thought about what he had just committed himself to. He hadn’t really left the apartment since he arrived, and if he were to tell the truth, there was a very irrational reason for his reluctance. He was worried about being recognized.

When he had lived on the streets, he really had tried to keep to himself, but it was difficult sometimes. So over the years, he had built up a small but notable collection of people he would rather not see again, and the idea of leaving the safety and warmth of the apartment and risking seeing someone he’d rather not wasn’t particularly appealing. Regardless, he steeled his nerves and grabbed the spare key Ging had showed him, before pulling on his shoes and walking out of the apartment, noting the apartment number duly. Because the idea of seeing old, unpleasant acquaintances was much more appealing than disappointing Ging.

 

x-x

 

He managed to make it to the school without incident. Once he arrived outside the building, he recognized it. It was a large, brick building, with at least a thousand glistening windows and a large yard out front. The building was bustling, filled with parents coming to pick up their children and children making their way to the buses. Kite weaved through the crowd, his anxiety amplified. The idea of meeting someone he had had contact with before was worrying, but he hadn’t even considered the fact that someone might _recognize_ him, recognize him as one of the many homeless individuals who hung around the west side and call him out, point out that he didn’t belong there at the school. He regretted his distinctive hair.

But no one seemed to notice him as he followed Ging’s instructions, locating Gon’s classroom easily. A large number of the children in the room had seemingly already left. There were two girls on one side of the room, chatting happily, and then there was Gon and a white-haired child sitting on the other, playing some sort of clapping game Kite didn’t recognize. The teacher was at the front of the room, sifting through paper. Gon looked up as soon as Kite entered the classroom, a wide grin breaking out over his features. “Kite!” he exclaimed, jumping up and running over to him, pulling his legs into a tight hug. Kite patted his head awkwardly. “Ms. Bisky said you were coming to pick us up!” The white haired child had followed his friend, looking up at Kite with wide eyes.

“My name’s Killua,” he said. “Are you Ging’s friend?”

“Yes.” Kite looked up at the teacher as she approached. “Hello.”

“You must be Kite,” the teacher said. “Ging called and told me you were going to come. The boys were wonderful today. Now, they have a few things I’m sending home with them. Make sure they complete them and bring them back tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Well, at least let Ging know they need to do them,” she said after a moment, smiling sweetly. Kite said he would, and she made sure he signed a release slip before relinquishing the children into his care. He ushered them out of the school and down the sidewalk, letting Gon grab onto his hand as they walked.

“We had a good day at school, didn’t we Killua?” Gon said cheerfully, swinging his arm back and forth and pulling Kite’s with it. “But we had to do a whole adding worksheet, which was kind of hard, but I think I did good!”

“It was good,” Killua said, still eyeing Kite suspiciously. It made Kite restless. It took a little longer to get back to the apartment than it did to leave it with Gon holding onto his arm bubbling about everything he had done at school and Killua trailing along silently, but they managed it in about thirty minutes. Kite unlocked the door with the key, pushing it open; the two children ran past him, Gon pulling his friend towards his bedroom. Once the key was returned to its appropriate place, he walked over to the phone and picked it up, dialing in the number on the fridge and holding it to his ear. It rang for a few minutes before someone picked up.

“Hello? This is Ging Freecs.”

“Ging, I got them. We’re home now.”

“Oh, hey, Kite. Thanks again. I really appreciate it. Um, Kurapika might come to pick Killua up later, if I don’t make it home first, so if you could just hold onto him for now, that’d be great,”’ Ging instructed. “I hope I don’t have to stay much longer… it’s just some paperwork now so hopefully I can finish that up and head your way within the hour.”

Kite didn’t really understand what exactly Ging did, so he just hummed his acknowledgment before asking: “So, I have them here. What am I supposed to do now?” It was an important question. To tell the truth, Kite wasn’t entirely sure what watching the two six-year-olds entailed. Was he supposed to feed them? Was he supposed to literally watch them? Or was he just supposed to make sure they didn’t die or get hurt but mostly leave them alone?

“Oh, well… um,” Ging paused, sounding thoughtful. “Just let ‘em be, I guess. You don’t really need to do anything about it. Just make sure they don’t get up to any trouble. Don’t worry. You’ll do _fine._ Gon is a good kid… and Killua… well, Killua is a kid. Just let them play and I’m sure they won’t get up to anything _too_ bad.”

“Got it. Um, actually, their teacher said they were supposed to… do something? Do first graders have homework?”

“Oh, it’s probably just spelling practice or something. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it when I get home.” Ging seemed awfully insistent that he ‘don’t worry’ and it was starting to make Kite feel like maybe _Ging_ was a little worried, and that made Kite feel worried.

“Okay,” he said instead. Ging thanked him again, before saying goodbye and hanging up. Kite docked the phone, suddenly aware that the house was suspiciously quiet. During his conversation with Ging, he had been aware of the faint sounds of Gon and Killua playing in the child’s room, but it had oddly faded away. He told himself he shouldn’t worry, just like Ging had said, crossing the living room and pushing Gon’s partially closed door open. He should probably worry.

Killua was holding some length of rope ( _why did Gon have rope in his room?_ ), and Gon was standing on a bean bag trying to open up his window. Kite blinked. “Um… Gon?” he questioned. Gon and Killua turned to face him, and Gon grinned brightly.

“Oh, hi Kite!” he said cheerfully. “Me and Killua are going to scale down the building like explorers and then go to the park!” Kite blinked. They were so open about their crime. Or maybe it wasn’t a crime. Kite hadn’t really ever said that it wasn’t okay to plan a dangerous escape, but he had assumed that some sort of pre-established rule.

“Let’s… not do that,” he said hopefully. “I think your teacher said you had something you needed to do… why don’t you look at it… together? That’d be… fun.”

“The spelling sheets?” Gon questioned, and with panic brewing in his chest, Kite thought, for a moment, that he would protest. “Okay!” Killua, however, didn’t seem quite so easily convinced.

“I don’t want to do the spelling sheets,” he complained, and Kite floundered for a reason why, exactly, he should. Why should he do the spelling sheets? Because he needed to know how to spell, obviously, but that didn’t seem like a reason Killua would accept.

“You… need to know how to spell,” he said weakly. He should have never brought up the homework; Ging had told him not to worry about it, and now, he was going to make enemies out of the children he was supposed to be watching.

“Eh? Come on, Killua; let’s do it!” Gon insisted, grabbing the sleeve of Killua’s shirt and pulling him into the living room where they had abandoned their backpacks. “I bet it’ll be really fun, actually! And if we can’t do one, we can ask Kite and I think he’ll know for sure because he’s an adult!” Killua relented with a huff, sitting down on the carpet heavily and pulling the sheet out of his backpack. They started to work on it. Apparently, Gon was a better babysitter than Kite was, but he was grateful for any help he could get.

Unfortunately, it only took them about fifteen minutes to actually finish the spelling sheet. Then, they returned them to their backpacks and sat on the carpet trying to decide what to do next. “Let’s go and climb down the building now,” Killua suggested, and Gon nodded enthusiastically.

“Wait,” Kite said firmly. “I don’t think you should climb down the building.”

“Why?” Gon asked with wide eyes. “They did it in my book when they had to escape the evil babysitter to save their puppy!” Kite decided not to take offense at that.

“Well, I don’t think it’s a very good idea,” he said. “Because…”

“Because why?”

“Because… if someone sees you climbing down a building they’ll call the police and you’ll get arrested.” That was a lie. Why did he lie? The police definitely wouldn’t come and arrest someone for climbing down a building. They might arrest him for negligence, but they wouldn’t arrest Gon and Killua. Gon and Killua didn’t seem to know any better. Gon gasped.

“Really?”

“Maybe,” Kite backtracked. “It could happen, possibly.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Killua said, looking unimpressed. “You just don’t want us to do it.” Gon gasped, eyes wide, and Killua smirked at his apparent victory.

“Really?” Gon asked breathily.  

“Well, I don’t think it’s a very good idea,” Kite reasoned. “Isn’t there something else you want to do instead?” he asked, and Gon looked thoughtful. Then he grinned.

“Let’s go color, Killua!” Killua nodded and they ran back into Gon’s room. Killua glared over his shoulder at him aggressively right before disappearing around the corner. Kite struggled in the living room, hoping they were planning on coming back. He didn’t feel quite comfortable letting them go back in there with the rope and window again, but he also didn’t feel quite comfortable going in there to watch them by himself. Fortunately, they came back, settling onto the rug, so Kite sat down on the couch, observing them awkwardly before picking up the book he had sat down, trying not to watch them too intently, like Ging had said. It was hard, and he found himself looking over the edge of the cover every few minutes just to make sure neither of them had run off without him noticing.

Around ten minutes into the coloring, Gon looked up, catching Kite in his spying. He grinned. “Hey Kite!” he said excitedly. “If you come down here, I’ll show you how to color a _rainbow_!” He was always eager to share from his deep wealth of first-grade knowledge, and Kite enjoyed indulging him, setting the book down again and sliding off the couch to sit next to him. Gon picked up the violet crayon, drawing a long arch across the white expanse. “You start with this one, I think,” he explained. Killua looked offended, shaking his head.

“No, Gon!” he said. “You start with _red._ ”

“I like starting with purple!”

“But it starts with _red,_ Gon. It starts with _red_ , right Kite?”

Kite managed to nod and shake his head simultaneously; he had to find a way to resolve the issue without creating the risk for a mutiny from whichever child he sided against. “It… it does, but Gon has the… artistic license to start with violet if he wants,” he said.

“Yeah!” Gon exclaimed. “What’s that?”

“Um… it means you can change things if you’re an artist,” Kite fumbled. (Was that even true?)

“Okay! See, Killua, I can change things if I want because I’m an _artist_!” he said, “and I think the rainbow looks prettier if the violet is on the top!” He continued on his lesson, getting the rest of the colors mostly right. Kite nodded along, humming when appropriate. After Gon’s rainbow tutorial, Killua wanted to show him how _he_ thought a rainbow should be drawn, scooching over towards Kite and demanding he watch as he did it _properly._ Then, they decided to have a competition to see who was better, and that one round turned into best of three, and then best of five. So far, Gon was leading the pack, drawing rainbows that were more artistically sophisticated (prettier) as decided by the two of them. Kite watched intently, as was expected of him, interjecting occasionally, and he didn’t hear the door open and close.

“What’s going on here?” Ging’s voice said suddenly from right behind him, and Kite jumped, pivoting around to see Ging squatting down with a playful smirk. “This looks pretty intense.”

“Ging!” Kite exclaimed. “You’re back! Gon and Killua were showing me how to… draw a rainbow.” He gestured vaguely to the various rainbow drawings that were spread out across the living room floor. Ging looked at them, smile widening.

“Wow, look at that,” he drawled. “You do any of those? You don’t need to be modest, Kit Kite.”

“Kit… no. I… I’m not artistic enough to keep up with this… competition.”

“They look like a tough crowd,” Ging reasoned. “It’s probably best to keep out of it. Might get beat up or something. Rainbow drawing is serious business, trust me, especially now that they’ve learned about rainbows in school. They’re _experts._ ” Kite nodded.

“I can tell.”

“We’ve been using _artistic license_!” Gon informed him. “Kite told us we could because we’re _artists_ and that’s something artists do!”

“Oh, for sure,” Ging said, throwing Kite a teasing smile. “But you two should probably work on your spelling sheets before Mr. Kurapika comes. He said he’d come and get you in about thirty minutes, Killua, and I bet he’d be pumped if you had already finished _everything_ for tomorrow.”

Killua looked proud. “We already finished them,” he said. “Kite _made_ us do them.”

“Wow! Isn’t Kite a good babysitter? We’ll have to get him to do it again,” he said, patting Kite heavily on the back, seeming to ignore the way he drew back a little.

“Yeah!” Gon said, “I like him a lot better than Palm! She never sits on the floor with us. Hey, Killua; I wanna show you my new _beach ball_! It’s red!” He grabbed Killua by the wrist, pulling him up and dragging him into his room before he could protest. After they had gone, Ging stood up, stretching out, and Kite followed his lead. Ging clapped him on the shoulder, smiling brightly.

“I really can’t thank you enough,” he said. “You have _no_ idea how much I appreciate it. And hey… you really don’t have to babysit again if you don’t want to; I was just joking around with the boys. I have a girl who I call sometimes if I need someone, so I wasn’t trying to put you on the spot or anything.” Kite shook his head.

“It’s okay,” he said. “They were good. Well, they were good after they started coloring. In the beginning I think Gon was a better babysitter than me… Killua’s feisty.” He wasn’t sure why Ging would want him to babysit again; aside from the whole homeless stranger bit, he was also completely hopeless, and he had to ask about everything. It was probably painfully obvious how inexperienced he was when it came to babysitting, so Ging was most likely just being nice (like always) when he acted like he would even consider leaving his child alone with him again. Ging laughed at his comment.

“That’s an understatement,” he insisted. “That kid’s freaking trouble. I pity Kurapika and Leorio; they really have their hands full with him.” Kite hummed, looking down at the floor. “I bet you were a handful,” Ging said thoughtfully after a few moments, and Kite looked up at him in confusion. Ging smirked again, narrowing his eyes skeptically as he looked at him. “I can tell.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Eh. Well. The ones that are a handful never think they are. Here in a few years, I’m sure Killua will be insisting he was a perfect little angel, just you wait.” Kite chuckled.

“It’ll be a boldfaced lie. They tried to climb out the window.”

“What the hell?”

“Yeah. Apparently they wanted to go to the park.”

“Well, that’s a bad way to do it,” Ging said sarcastically. Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Ging checked his watch before shrugging. “Must be Kurapika. I’ll go let him in. Will you tell Killua that his dad is here?” Kite nodded, walking over to Gon’s room and pushing the door open. Gon and Killua were sitting on the rug inside, and Gon was showing off the mentioned beach ball to his friend.

“Killua,” Kite said, gaining the attention of both. “Your dad is here.”

“You mean Kurapika?” the child questioned, and Kite felt confused but he nodded anyway, because that was what Ging had called the man. “Okay, I’m coming.” He bounced up, brushing past Kite on the way the by. Gon seemed to notice his confusion.

“Hey Kite,” he said, and Kite acknowledged him. “Do you know why Killua doesn’t call Mr. Kurapika daddy? Daddy says it’s because he’s adopted.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, that means Mr. Leorio and Mr. Kurapika aren’t _really_ his parents.”

“Yes… Are you going to come say hello to… Mr. Kurapika?” Kite questioned, and Gon nodded, jumping to his feet and running by him. Kite followed after the child. In the foyer, a blond man was standing just inside the door and talking to Ging, and Killua was standing next to him, already wearing his backpack. Gon was saying his hellos as Kite approached, and Ging turned to smile at him.

“Hey Kurapika, this is Kite,” he said, gesturing at Kite as he came to a stop next him. “Kite, this is Kurapika, Killua’s dad.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Kite said politely. The man, Kurapika, seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place him. Nonetheless, he didn’t really _like_ recognizing anyone. Kurapika surveyed him, but not reacting like he knew Kite. Kite tried to quell his anxiety. No, Kurapika didn’t seem to recognize him at all… or he was just good at hiding his recognition. The blond smiled at him.

“I really appreciate you going to pick up the boys,” he said. “Thank you. You’ll have to come over to dinner sometimes. Me and my husband would love to have you.”

“Oh, that’d be… nice.”

“Wonderful. Well, Ging, me and Killua better get going. We have to get to your piano lesson, don’t we Killua?” Killua nodded. “Thank you again. I’m sure I’ll see the both of you around, or… at least on Monday, Ging. Have a good weekend.”

“Hey, you too,” Ging said amicably. “Bye Killua.”

“Bye Ging,” Killua said, and he and Kurapika left. After they were gone, Gon announced that he was going to go and organize his blocks by color, marching off to his room determinedly. Ging watched him go before turning back to Kite.

“We weren’t, like, talking about you,” he said. “I just felt kind of… obligated to tell Kurapika who you were before I sent you to pick up Killua. He didn’t have… any problems with it or anything.” It stung a little bit, even though Kite insisted to himself that Ging _shouldn’t_ trust him, but he just shook his head.

“Of course you did. You should have.”

“You know, you’re just a kid,” he said. “Well, technically, you’re an adult now, but it wasn’t that long ago that you were just a kid. Try to relax a little bit. No one’s going to begrudge you for being homeless. I bet it was out of your control anyway. You said it yourself; when you were out there, you tried to stay straight. You never got involved with any… gangs or… drugs… or anything like that. I entrust Gon’s safety with strangers every day, and the only difference is that they’re hired by some school and you’re just some kid with bad luck. So… stop acting like I’m going to judge you or something. And… I never asked you to help with Gon because I didn’t want you to feel obligated just because I’m helping you out, not because I didn’t… trust you or something.”

“Okay,” he said, but deep down, he had to question Ging’s trusting nature. It didn’t matter; Ging shouldn’t trust him with Gon. He was clueless. He couldn’t take care of a child. That wasn’t to mention his questionable background. Ging didn’t know the first thing about him, so how could he tell it was safe to trust him with something so important? But then Ging smiled at him, and Kite wondered if he knew something Kite didn’t.

“Ease up, kid,” the man said, walking into the living room and plopping down on the couch. “Ugh. Work was crazy today.” Kite followed after him, sitting on the edge of the chair and looking down at the carpet, which was still littered with papers and crayons. Ging continued: “Yeah, it’s all because of this stupid senior position. It’s throwing everything off balance. And today… I might have taken charge a little bit. Um… so I might be a little busy the next few… weeks. You could possibly… go pick Gon up again, right? I don’t want you to feel obligated! It would just be Gon, not the Gon _and_ Killua Double Threat. Like I said, I don’t want you to feel obligated. Kurapika can always look after him if you have _any_ hesitations at all, but man, it’d be pretty balling.” Kite blinked, looking at him like he rightly insane.

“Okay,” he said again, but his mind was reeling. Once was a stretch, Kite thought. Asking him _once_ already made Kite doubt Ging’s sanity _and_ parenting, but asking for him to do it again? He assumed it was a last resort, but now Ging was asking like it was a first choice. But he said ‘okay’ anyway, because it seemed like Ging might trust him more than he trusted himself, and maybe Ging knew him a little better too, somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your support on the last chapter! I currently have ten chapters written, and I'll try to post around twice a week until I catch up. Please leave your comments below. Thanks again to my beta Abby (@Twelthpaldi) for her help!


	3. Life

That Saturday after lunch, Ging insisted on dragging Kite out to the mall to buy some properly fitting clothes, despite Kite’s protests. Surprisingly, the trip passed without any real incident, and Ging looked pleased with himself as he drove back to the apartment and sung along to some terrible 90s pop song on the radio. After they made it back to the apartment, Kite decided to make the grilled cheeses for dinner and Ging offered his assistance, probably for his own sake more than anything. Gon would eat anything and Kite wasn’t particularly picky, but Ging generally preferred uncharred food.

“Yeah, you gotta put butter on the outside,” he said, apprehending the bread from Kite.  “Otherwise, it’ll, like… do something bad.”

“It doesn’t sound like you know for sure,” Kite retorted, narrowing his eyes as he relinquished it. “But I suppose I’ll defer to your expertise.” Ging nodded grimly, slathering the outside of the cheese sandwich before slapping it down on the pan. Kite raised an eyebrow. “Do we need to… turn it on?”

“Um, yeah, that’d help.” He turned on the stovetop before stepping back and waiting for it to heat up properly. They fell into a comfortable sort of silence, and then Ging ruined it. “You know, when I saw that guy about to kill someone with a gun in the alleyway, it was pretty… scary.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I can’t even imagine how it must have been for you; it must have been intense,” Ging pontificated, throwing him a sideways glance. “What… what were you thinking? Did you think you were… going to die?” Kite shrugged.

“I was okay with it.”

“Okay with what?” Ging questioned, barely concealing the panic in his voice.

“With dying,” Kite said simply. “I didn’t really see any point in going on. I always get depressed in the fall.” Ging made a concerned, throaty sound, and Kite turned to look at him, wondering if he had said the wrong thing. Well, admitting that you wouldn’t actually mind dying was probably rather alarming. “It’s fine,” he said, trying to mend the tear at least a little. Ging shook his head frantically.

“Of course it’s not!” he insisted. “Are you… are you suicidal? You haven’t thought about doing anything like that since you got here, right? You wouldn’t do that to Gon, would you? He’s just a little kid! He wouldn’t understand, and it would break his little heart if you… you know! And… I don’t want you to die, man. You _can’t_ do that to us; please!” Kite blinked, feeling a little overwhelmed. He leaned away subconsciously.

“I’m not suicidal,” he said “I just… didn’t really care whether I died or not, and it only for a few minutes. Then I decided I liked living and I didn’t want him to kill me. I’m not going to kill myself. I hadn’t ever really… thought about doing that before.” That was, granted, partially a lie; he _had_ considered _that_ on a few on the colder nights when he was all alone, but it had never amounted to anything more than thought, and Kite felt the lie was justified when Ging looked relieved.

“Oh man, don’t freak me out like that again, Kite,” he said, laughing breathily. “I don’t think I’d be very good at, like, talking someone down or something.”

“Well, don’t worry about it. You won’t need to do it… not with me, anyway,” he said, and then the sandwich started to sizzle and Kite panicked. “What’s it doing? Wait, do we need to do something else to it now?” Ging nodded, picking up a spatula and gingerly trying to turn the sandwich.

“Ow! Da-darn!” he corrected himself mid-word, pulling back his hand and dropping the spatula accidently. It clattered against the tile floor. Kite looked at him with alarm.

“Are you okay?” he demanded, picking up the utensil carefully.

“Yeah…” Ging said slowly. “I don’t think I actually burned myself. It’s just kind of hot. Hold on, I got it. I’m going to do it again.” He tried to flip it again and actually managed to do so. He looked triumphant, grinning at Kite before flipping the rest of the sandwiches with some trepidation. Kite watched intently, listening when Ging decided to depart some of his culinary wisdom onto him. Eventually they finished, and Ging spatula-ed the sandwiches out of the skillet and onto plates. “But hey, Kite,” he said cautiously, not quite looking at him. “If you ever start to feel that way again, come and chat with me, okay? I might not be very good at it, but I can try.”

“Okay,” Kite replied, and they called Gon into the kitchen, moving to the little table. Kite noticed that Ging kept looking at him at they ate, cautious, cursory sort of glances, and Kite regretted what he said earlier. He hadn’t meant to be dramatic, and he hadn’t wanted pity. Ging was easy to talk to, and he inspired Kite to tell the truth against his better judgement. Ging’s constant ‘leveling’ with him was rubbing off, and he needed to get it in check before he said something he couldn’t take back. He started to catch his eye when he looked at him, subtly letting him know that he was, in fact, aware of the glances. Eventually, Ging started smiling when Kite looked at him critically, so Kite stopped trying to catch him, looking down at the table as he vaguely listened to Gon babble about caterpillars.

After dinner, Gon wanted Kite and Ging to come and watch some cartoon Kite didn’t recognize with him, bouncing over to the couch with Kite and Ging trailing after him. He only lasted about twenty minutes before dozing off. Ging sighed, leaning back against the couch and staring up at the ceiling. Kite picked up his book, starting back where he had left off the previous day. Ging looked over at him curiously.

“Do you like that?” he asked, pointing at the book.

“Yeah. It’s… good.”

“I thought it was,” Ging said casually, sinking back against the cushions. “I don’t read a whole lot, but this dude at work kept insisting I read it because apparently it was, like, the best book he ever read. I don’t know if it was the _best_ book I’ve ever read, but I thought it was pretty good.” Kite hummed his agreement. Ging laid his head back down against the couch, letting his eyes ease closed. The faint sound of Gon snoring intermingled with the sound of the cartoon, and Kite could feel himself starting to grow drowsy; he fell asleep.

When he woke up, the television was still on, just muted, and Gon was curled up against him, still asleep. Ging was awake, moving around in the kitchen. After a few minutes, he walked back into the living room carrying a cup of coffee, and he smiled when he saw Kite was awake. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Sleep good? Group naps are the best. Oh, you want a cup of coffee? Here, have this one. I made a whole pot so it’s cool; just gotta fill up another mug.” He relinquished the mug to Kite, and Kite took it with a quiet ‘thanks,’ sipping at the coffee as Ging walked back into the kitchen.

Over the past week, Ging had kept him well caffeinated, insisting coffee was the ‘bomb.’ He had started to like it. After Ging had filled up another mug of coffee, he returned to the couch, settling back into his spot gently as to not disturb the sleeping child. The cartoons had gone off, changing to the local news, and Kite watched it disinterestedly, sipping at his coffee. The weather came on and Ging made a content noise as the forecast indicated the following day would be clear, sunny, and mild.

“You’re still up for fishing, right?” he asked.

“Oh,” Kite said. “Yeah, of course.” He had almost forgotten the ‘fun’ day at the park Ging had planned. Ging grinned.

“Cool, cool,” he said. “Have you ever been fishing before?”

“Um, no.”

“That’s okay. Neither has Gon. I’ve been meaning to take the kid out, teach him his old man’s trade, but I never got around to it,” he said. “Glad I didn’t now. Now, I can teach both of you at once and you won’t have to feel bad about being the only novice around.”

“Wow, I’m so glad you’re looking out for me.”

“No problem, Kit Kite,” Ging said cheerfully. “So, how’s the shoulder? Still feeling alright?”

“Yeah,” Kite replied. His shoulder was feeling better. He had gotten similar injuries before, but never bothered to treat them; apparently, the Band-Aids and Neosporin had actually helped. “Thank you for taking care of it. You probably didn’t have to do this much.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ging said. “If I ever get a grisly shoulder wound, I’ll expect you to do the same, kid. But try not to overdo it; I don’t want you to like rip it back open or something.” Kite nodded, shifting slightly but trying not to disturb the child lying up against him. “Gon really likes you, you know?” Ging commented.

“He’s a good kid,” Kite said, smiling fondly. “But should we move him into his room? He… probably shouldn’t have napped for so long. He won’t sleep well.”

“Wow, you’re such a mom,” Ging said blandly. “But you’re probably right. I got him.” He scooped Gon up, carrying him into his bedroom. He didn’t return for a few minutes, so Kite assumed he was probably getting him ready for bed. It had gotten dark outside, and Kite noted that it had been doing so earlier and earlier with each passing day. Usually, he found himself dreading the days growing shorter, and he couldn’t quite shake the feeling. After all, how long could he really stay with Ging and Gon? Ging might have said that he _wanted_ him to stay, but for how long could he actually encroach on their privacy and kindness? And he highly doubted that Ging would ever tell him to leave; the man was much too nice to do that. “You look… deep in thought.” He was interrupted by Ging returning to the living room. Kite looked up at him, blinking.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Why? You can think all you want,” the man replied, sitting down on the couch heavily. “Got Gon all tucked in. Was there something on your mind?” Kite quickly contemplated his options. He could lie, or he could tell him the truth. Ging would want him to tell the truth.

“Not really,” he lied.

“Okay.” They fell into an odd sort of silence, drinking coffee comfortably but uncomfortably waiting for one another to say something more. Ging was the one to break it. “Yeah, so I was thinking we could go fishing, just kind of hang around the park. It’s a pretty place; I bet you’ll like it. If I didn’t have work Monday we could have camped, but… I gotta go. There’s a board meeting at noon. More about that ‘election’ crap.”

“That’s fine. Do you want me to pick up Gon?”

“That’d be awesome, if you don’t mind.” Ging grinned. “If it works out that way, I’ll let Kurapika know. Kurapika was texting me after he got home. He said that you were _so_ polite, and he was _so_ surprised that someone who was _so_ polite could actually be my friend, since I’m _so_ rude. Ugh, there was a point to this: he wants you and me and Gon to go over to his house for dinner some night. He likes making dinner for people, and he probably wants to introduce you to Leorio.”

“Oh, well, that’d be fine.”

“Okay, I’ll let him know,” Ging said, humming. “Do you want me to tell him not to invite anyone else? He’ll probably try to invite, like, the Mackernasseys or something, or Melody. He’s a big dinner partier, and he probably wants to introduce you to all of them too, but if it’d make you uncomfortable, I can tell him to tone it down.” Kite shook his head.

“I’d be okay,” he said. “I don’t know why he’d want them to meet me, though.”

“Heck if I know,” Ging said nonchalantly. “That came out wrong; you’re awesome and I’m sure everyone would _love_ to meet you, but Kurapika always does this sort of thing. Whenever someone has a new friend or something, he always makes a real effort to introduce them to _all_ of our mutual acquaintances. It’s weird. You know, unless you _really_ want to meet a bunch of people, I’ll tell Kurapika to keep the whole dinner thing kind of low-key.”

“That’s fine too.”

“God, I wish the people at my job were as easy to get along with as you.” Ging remarked, making Kite chuckle. “No, really, you don’t know how difficult they are. It’s been so nice just chilling with people I actually _like_ this weekend.” Kite hummed his acknowledgement; it made him happy to know that Ging actually enjoyed spending time with him, in a sad sort of way. He knew it would only make it harder to leave when the time came. They fell into a comfortable silence, and Ging clicked the volume of the television back up, looking around at the movie channels for something to watch. Eventually, he settled on a movie that was apparently rated PG-13, something that he couldn’t watch with Gon.

“You’re such a responsible parent,” Kite noted dryly.

“Yeah, well, it’s nice to have another grown-up to watch stuff with,” Ging said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Disney movies, but sometimes, it’s nice to watch something that’s more adult, and it’s nice not to watch it by myself. Like, Gon’s pretty mature, I think, but he gets scared sometimes, about silly stuff like thunder. I know I can watch stuff with you and you _probably_ won’t come into my room at night crying because of it. I mean, if you need to, go on ahead, but I won’t feel bad about it.”

“I’ll refrain.”

“You’re sarcastic.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are too,” Ging countered childishly, unable to hide the hint of affection hiding behind the words. “It’s not subtle at all. You’re only nice to Gon.” Kite hummed his agreement again, sipping at his coffee. It had cooled off, only lukewarm by that point, but it was still good, Kite thought. He hoped Ging was as fond of his dry humor as he sounded, because it was something he had a difficult time stopping, and he often wondered if people took his words more seriously than he meant them. Sometimes, when you’re cold and hungry and tired, you make bad jokes that are hard to recognize to the wrong people and that’s how old, unpleasant acquaintances are made. Ging, however, seemed quite adept at telling whether he was jesting or not. It was nice change from constantly wondering if he had inadvertently offended someone with his less-than-adequate social skills.

After about an hour of watching the, unfortunately, trashy action movie, Ging declared that he was going to start moving towards bed, pushing himself off of the couch and stretching out. Then, he insisted Kite come along for his nightly medical administrations, pulling him into the bathroom and asking him to strip. Kite pulled off his shirt, sitting down on the edge of the tub like usual and starting the regular process of pulling of each of the Band-Aids. After he had finished, Ging reapplied the Neosporin and then the new Band-Aids, far more proficient at the action than he had been the first time. After he finished, he sat back.

“There we go,” he said. “Anyway, I’m probably going to shower in the morning, so you go ahead if you want. I know you like to… wash all your hair at night. _All_ your hair. There’s a lot of it. I’m going to go ahead and go to sleep, so I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep good.”

“Yeah, you too,” Kite said, pulling back on his shirt as Ging left the bathroom. He decided to go ahead and wash ‘all’ his hair, like Ging had suggested, and after he was done, he retreated to his bedroom for the night. He really did appreciate the opportunity to wash his hair as much as he wanted; now, he imagined, it would be a strange occurrence to find leaves or something stuck in it, even though it happened more often than he’d like to recall before. He vaguely wondered why he never cut it as he laid in bed, staring up at the plain, white ceiling sleeplessly.

His life had changed so much in just a little under a week, and not just in the way that finding rubbish in his hair would be an odd occurrence. He had already fallen back into the routines of domestic life, and it confused him as to how, even though it had only been five or so years since he had _really_ started living on the streets. But, five years was both a long time and a short time. A lot had happened in five years, but he supposed it would be harder than that to completely erase habits formed over twelve or thirteen. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, trying to surrender himself over to sleep, but it was difficult. Napping had really taken away any of his desire to sleep, and perhaps drinking coffee right before trying to _wasn’t_ the best idea. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, standing up and stalking over to the little desk in the corner of the room. He pulled the chair over to the window, sitting down and pulling his legs up to his chest, looking out over the city.

It was still alive five stories below him, breathing and squirming and chattering. Cars rolled down the ebony streets, headlights a dull white out in front of them and taillights a vibrant red trailing after them; their rooves were illuminated by the yellow streetlights looming above. There were people still out; it was only midnight or so, but they were all bundled up in the chilling autumn air. Kite wondered where they were going, where they were headed. Some of them were probably heading home; he wondered if some of them didn’t have a home, like him.

But that was just the street below him. The city sprawled out beyond his window, tall buildings blocking his view of other little corners of life, and hulking on the horizon like angular giants. He knew all throughout the city, there were more cars, more life. There were probably clubs, bars, restaurants still busy with a late-night crowd. All through the city, there were millions of people all living their complex, unique lives. He pulled his legs closer to his chest and turned his attention to the night sky. The blackness was washed out with light. He only saw a few stars, the brightest, shining dimly on the dark canvas, and he wondered what the sky would look like away from all the people and all the light. He had lived in the city his whole life. He sat silently, watching from his window for some indefinite amount of time and feeling small. Then, he heard the door creak open behind him.

He turned to see Ging, dressed for bed but not looking particularly sleepy, standing in the door, hand still on the knob, looking at the empty bed with confusion before catching sight of him. He smiled. “Mind if I come in?” he asked softly. Kite shook his head. “I was just wondering if you were able to get back to sleep; Gon’s still out like a rock. I couldn’t get to sleep... Probably wasn’t my best idea to drink coffee right before bed.” Kite chuckled faintly.

“Maybe,” he said. Ging had walked over to join him at the window, looking down at the street with cross arms. Kite turned his attention back to beyond the glass.

“Wow, that’s quite a view. I always forget about it,” the man standing beside him commented. “I don’t really look out my window a whole lot. Guess I’ve lived in the city too long. Hey… can I join you? This looks like a great way to get sleepy.” Kite nodded. “Okay, I promise not to talk the whole time. I’ll be right back.” He retreated from the room, returning a few minutes later with one of the chairs from the kitchen, setting it down across from Kite. Then, he sat down, mirroring Kite’s position. They sat in silence, watching the world below them.

 

x-x

 

Kite woke up the next morning surprisingly comfortable in the bed. Ging was gone, nothing left of him but the kitchen chair by the window and memories. Kite didn’t remember him leaving, or even moving from his own spot last night, but he grateful that he hadn’t actually slept against a wall or, even worse, fallen out on the chair half way through the night and ended up bruised. Yes, wondering how exactly he got into the bed was a much better alternative. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stretching before venturing out into the living room.

It was early, but he could hear movement from Gon’s room, so he walked over to it, cautiously pushing the door open. Gon was sitting on the rug, doing something with his stuffed animals and bopping his head back and forth cheerfully. He didn’t notice Kite. “Good morning, Gon,” he announced himself as he entered, and Gon turned, grinning.

“Hi Kite!” he said, much too loudly for the morning hour. “I’m up really early!”

“Yes, you are,” Kite said. “So you should try and be quiet because your dad is probably still sleeping.” Gon nodded solemnly.

“Okay, Kite,” he whispered loudly, sounding resolved. “I’m hungry. I was going to make _oatmeal_ but Daddy said I shouldn’t use the stove by myself. Will you help me make it?” Kite nodded, and the child jumped to his feet, brushing past him and marching into the kitchen, heading straight to the pantry. He stood on his tippy-toes, grabbing the oatmeal container from the top shelf. Kite walked into the kitchen and was immediately handed said container. “This is where it comes from,” the child informed him, and Kite flipped it around, reading the cooking instructions printed on the back.

“Seems easy enough,” he commented to himself more than to Gon. Gon nodded his agreement, bouncing over to one of the cabinets and pulling out a pot before setting that on the stove. Kite intervened as he started fiddling with the oven dials. “We need to fill it up with water first,” he said, accessing the appropriate drawer for measuring cups. Then he filled the pot up with the proper amount of water and started bringing it to a boil. So far, his cooking attempts had all… failed, a least a little, but oatmeal was easy enough, right? (Right? Hopefully.) As long as he made sure it didn’t burn, there really wasn’t a whole lot of other ways he could ruin it. After the water was boiling, he added in the correct amount of oats.

Gon beamed. “Wow, Kite, you’re the best cook ever!”’ he complimented.

“I don’t know about that,” Kite countered, but he was smiling. Gon looked guilty, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah… you do mess up a lot, but I was trying to be nice.”

“I appreciate it,” he replied, timing the oatmeal carefully as he listened to Gon babble about spelling or something, and checking to make sure there was no excess water before he killed the heat and pulled the pot off of the stove, sitting it down on a cutting block on the counter. If appearances counted, it appeared as if he had actually made the oatmeal successfully; the beige substance in the pot _looked_ like it, at least. Gon looked thrilled as Kite served him up a bowl, and Kite made sure he didn’t add _too_ much sugar to it before ushering him over to the table. After Gon was settled and happily eating, Kite returned to fix his own bowl. As he was sitting down, Ging emerged from his bedroom looking drowsy.

“Hey,” he said. “Ooh, oatmeal.” He blundered into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl, spooning some of the oatmeal into it before joining his son and Kite at the table. Kite was pleasantly surprised by how well it had turned out. There wasn’t anything noticeably wrong with it. He didn’t feel the need to point out. Gon did, however.

“Look Daddy,” he said. “Kite made this! It’s not even _burned_!” Kite looked at him blandly.

“You’re… practically an Iron Chef,” Ging said sarcastically. “But good job. This is really good.”

“Oh, thanks. It… wasn’t hard to make,” Kite said. “The instructions on the back… were very clear. There were… times and stuff.” He still felt proud, even if he had just made a pot of instant oatmeal. 

“Every victory is a victory,” Ging said vaguely. He still seemed half-asleep. “Wait… that’s not right. Ugh. Anyway, are you two ready for a big day of fishing and… park stuff?”

“Yay!” Gon exclaimed. “Fishing!”

“Yes,” Kite replied. “Sorry if we woke you up. I was trying to be quiet.” Ging waved him off, smiling as he shook his head.

“No, no, you didn’t,” he said. “And it’s better this way. This way, we can get an early start. It’s a little bit of a drive. Oh, man, I’m getting pumped. You’re going to love it, Kite.”

“I’m pumped too!” Gon announced. “Me and Daddy went to the park before and we even _stayed overnight,_ but we didn’t get to go fishing! That was when I didn’t have to go to school. The park is the best place ever!” Kite assumed he meant over the summer, nodding. 

After they finished breakfast, Gon ran off into his room to prepare for the impending trip and Ging insisted on cleaning up the oatmeal pot since Kite had, after all, made the actual oatmeal. Then, they both walked into the foyer, where there was a little storage closet, to look for the fishing poles. It was a full closet, piled up with boxes and winter coats, and Ging promised there was, in fact, fishing poles somewhere in the murky depths. And then he had started digging, handing coats and the like back to Kite to hold while he ventured deeper and deeper into the closet. He completely stepped into the closet after about ten minutes, before emerging with a picture frame.

“Look at this,” he said, holding it out. “It’s a picture of Gon when he was a baby.” Kite took the proffered frame in his free hand, shifting the coats on his other arm in order to take it, looking at it as instructed. It was a picture of a woman holding a baby. The baby, Kite thought, looked like any baby, but he was terrible at telling when a baby ‘looked’ like one of its parents, so he probably wasn’t the best judge. Still, babies were always fairly cute, and knowing that particular baby was _Gon_ made it a little cuter than average. The woman had red hair falling around the tops of her shoulders, and pale skin; her eyes were cut off by the top of the picture. “Wasn’t Gon, like, the cutest baby?” Ging prodded.

“He was,” Kite agreed. “Is that… your wife?” He felt bad bringing it up, unsure if Ging was still torn up about whatever had happened (of course he was,) but he also wanted to know. Fortunately, Ging didn’t seem upset by the question, snorting.

“No way! That’s my cousin, Mito,” he said. “Can’t you see the handsome family resemblance?”

“Oh, sure,” Kite said dryly, but he looked at the picture a little closer. It was difficult to see any sort of resemblance, but he assumed it was there. He handed the frame back to Ging, and Ging sat it down on the little table in the entryway, trying to brush off some more of the dust with his hand.

“Don’t know why it was in that closet…” he muttered, mostly to himself, before going back to his work. “Alright, let’s find these things!” He started digging again, and Kite stepped forward to watch. He found it vaguely impressive that Ging could actually shove so much into such a small space; that was a true talent. With a triumphant sound, Ging moved aside one last box and then emerged with four or five decrepit poles, looking pleased with himself as he leaned it against the wall. “Got ‘em,” he announced. “Okay, now I just have to… put all this stuff back.”

“Good luck with that,” Kite said blandly. “I don’t know how it was all in there in the first place.”

“Skill, Kite, it takes _skill_.” Ging started to stack the boxes back up, trying to recreate the masterful piles from before. He did it, eventually, even though he had to shut the door rather quickly to stop an avalanche. Kite unhelpfully pointed out that it would just fall over again next time, but Ging waved him off, walking towards the bathroom to shower. Kite retreated to his own room, deciding to get ready himself.

At around eight o’clock, they congregated in the living room, and Ging checked to make sure everything was all ready and accounted for. After his shower, Kite and him had made up sandwiches for lunch, and those were packed away in a cooler. Other than that, they only had to carry the stuff for fishing. Gon was bouncing up and down with his school backpack strapped on his back; after Ging checked to make sure he wasn’t carrying anything _too_ unnecessary (he was,) he approved them for takeoff, and they all left the apartment, heading down to the parking garage where Ging’s vehicle was parked.

Ging spent a few minutes after they all piled in to plug his phone into the radio, turning to grin at Kite as he watched him curiously. “Hold onto your socks, man,” he said. “This mixtape I jimmied up is _fire._ ” He turned the radio on, turning the volume dial to adjust it to the correct amount of loudness. It started blasting some 90s girl group hit, and Ging bobbed his head along to the music as he started backing out of the space. Soon, they were navigating their way through the city, headed for open road.

It was a long drive; they were already forty minutes in, rolling effortlessly down the highway. Ging looked content, one hand on the wheel and the other resting against the glass of the window. In the backseat, Gon was coloring happily, surprisingly patient with the long trip. Kite had finally gotten comfortable in his seat, and was trying not to focus on the fiery ‘mixtape.’ He watched the scenery blur by just outside his window. He had lived in the city his whole life; he couldn’t recall ever leaving it. There had been a few times, when he had had the money, where he had considered just jumping on a bus and leaving, hoping that wherever they let him out would be better somehow, but he hadn’t ever done it. No, unless there was some time way back in the dim recesses of his mind, he hadn’t ever really left the city before, and the thought of doing so made him feel strangely anxious. But then he caught sight of Ging subtly dancing along to the new song that had just come on, and he felt a little better.

He turned his attention back to the window, watching the fields and the odd house pass by in little more than a blur. He was interrupted from his musings by Ging. “Hey Kite,” he said, and Kite glanced over at him, humming. “You’re looking all deep again. You excited about fishing, or what?”

“Oh, sure,” Kite replied, wondering what looking ‘deep’ meant exactly. Ging probably didn’t look that way too often, he noted to himself dryly. “Of course I am. It’ll be a blast, I’m sure. How about you? Are you ready to teach two whole people how to fish?”

“You bet I am, man!” Ging said. “I’ll show you; I’m the best teacher in the whole world. You’ll be a fishing expert by tonight, no doubt about it.”

“Well, I look forward to it,” Kite said. “I’ll make sure to include it on all of my resumes.”

“As you should.” Ging chuckled to himself. “Anyway, I don’t know how much you’ll like fishing; it’s kind of a person to person thing, but I know you’ll love the park. It’s _beautiful._ There’s all these old trees and walking paths and stuff. Lots of fun. And we have all day! Oh, man, I’ve been cooped up in that stupid office for way too long. This is the real deal, right here.” Kite agreed, so Ging continued. “Ugh. I know I’m going to be _slammed_ this week, and it’s the worse, but… I guess I’m here now, right?”

“Every victory’s a victory,” Kite quoted unhelpfully, and Ging looked confused. “That’s what you told me earlier, anyway.”

“Oh my God, you’re the worst,” Ging groaned. “And by worst, I mean the best,” he then added condescendingly. Kite laughed to himself, and Ging chuckled, looking at him from the corner of his eye. He looked pleased with himself. 

“Are we almost there?” Gon prodded from the back.

“Almost,” Ging said. “Probably another… thirty minutes or so?”

“That’s not almost, Ging,”

“Yeah, Daddy!” Gon chimed in.

“Where are you ganging up on me?” Ging demanded, looking affronted. Kite smirked, looking at him with a knowing expression that made Ging furrow his brow.

“Because, every victory is a victory.”

“That… that doesn’t make any sense!”

“It never made any sense,” Kite countered. “But you’re the one who said it. Sorry. Sorry. I’ll stop.” Ging huffed, a petulant expression settling over his features.

“Well,” he said simply. “I just don’t think it’s very fair.”

“Life isn’t very fair.”

“Yeah, Daddy!”

Ging still looked annoyed, but it was looking increasingly put-out. “You two are still the worse,” he said. “Man, you’re lucky I love both of you…”

“Oh.”

“Love you too, Daddy!” Gon said cheerfully, giggling as he swung his feet back and forth, looking out the window. Kite was having a difficult time saying anything more. He couldn’t rightly remember the last time someone had said they loved him.    

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Have a spoopy Halloween! Please leave your comments and suggestions below, and thanks again to my beta Abby (@TwelfthPaldi).


	4. Gone Fishing

They reached the Hillson National Park within thirty minutes, as predicted. Ging pulled up to the little hut that guarded the main entrance, forking over two dollars to the cheerful park ranger, before driving forward into the greenness. Kite watched as the scenery passed by outside his window. It _was_ a beautiful park, just like Ging had said; there were tall trees overhead, filtering the light from the near-noonday sun and casting it on the ground in bright angular patterns. He pondered on how he had never gone _anywhere_ like that before, anywhere beyond the oppressive walls of the city.

After about ten minutes of driving, Ging pulled the car into a lot, putting it into park. Then, he announced they had arrived, pulling open his door and stepping out onto the gravel. Kite removed himself from the vehicle, stretching as he unfolded, and Gon jumped out of the car enthusiastically, looking around at their surroundings with wide eyes and not seeming nearly as stiff as Kite or Ging. The lot was in a little clearing surrounded by trees, and just beyond the trees to their right, they could see glimpses of a lake, clear and glistening in the light of the sun. Ging walked around to the back of the car, pulling open the trunk and removing the fishing rods. Then, he started walking towards the lake, and Kite and Gon followed after him.

When they reached the lakeshore, and Ging found a spot he deemed usable, he began their fishing lessons. Gon required a little more help than Kite did, but it didn’t change the fact that they were both equally terrible and neither of them actually caught anything the entire time. Ging was laughing as he watched their failed attempts, managing to actually catch a few things in-between assisting his pupils. Kite found himself having a surprisingly nice time, leaning more towards watching than trying as they entered their second hour. In a way, it was far more interesting to watch Gon as the child tried his hardest to ‘emulate the motion of a fish,’ as Ging put it, than to actually try and catch anything himself. After another thirty minutes, Ging walked over and crossed his arms as he stood next to him, watching as Gon wiggled the rod erratically. He chuckled to himself.

“Look at him go,” he said fondly. Kite hummed, slowly reeling in his own line. Ging tossed out his own line, steadying himself on a rock as he started reeling it back in. He had a way about him that suggested a certain proficiency and comfort in the motion. “You having fun?”

“Oh, for sure,” Kite said. “But… I think I might be doing something wrong.”

“Psh, no, you’re doing great,” Ging insisted, shaking off his rod as he pulled in the last of his line and propping it against tree. “Try doing it a little more like this.” He guided Kite’s hands on the rod, moving them back and forth. “Keep pulling it in.” Kite nodded as his hands were released, trying to do what Ging had showed him. It seemed a little jerky and uneven, but it was better, he supposed. “Yeah, that’s good. Keep doing that.” Ging picked his rod up, throwing his line out again with an elegant flick.

“How long have you known how to fish?” Kite questioned.

“Eh, for a long time,” Ging said vaguely. “I learned way back when I was a kid from my dad. There was this little lake behind our house. Used to fish there all the time.” Kite nodded.

“That sounds nice,” he said.

“But…” Ging grinned wolfishly. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. You’re going to catch up to me in no time. I can tell you’re a natural.” He chuckled, and Kite gave him a thankless look.

“Please, Ging,” he said bitterly. “I can tell when I’m terrible at something.”

“And you also have leaves in your hair.”

“Oh.” Kite tried to pull his hair, which was pulled up into a ponytail, around to locate said leaves, but Ging stopped him, trying to pull them out himself. The man huffed.

“How the heck did that happen?” he griped. “It’s, like, all up in here.”

“It’s fine,” Kite said blandly. “This kind of thing used to happen all the time. It probably just happened when I sat down over there earlier. Don’t… don’t worry about it. Ow. Stop pulling on it. That’s attached to my head, you know.” Ging didn’t seem deterred.

“No way, I’m going to get it out now.”

“Fine.” It took him a few minutes, but then Ging relented his grasp on his hair and pulled back, making a triumphant sound.

“Got it!” he exclaimed. “Those leaves were no match for me, man.”

“Oh, well, thanks.”

“Anytime.” Ging grinned, glancing over towards Gon, who was still flapping his fishing rod back-and-forth erratically. “So, anyway, how about lunch? You feeling hungry?” At his words, the child seemed to take notice of their conversation, flipping around.

“I am!” he announced, reeling his line in faster. “Is it time?” After he had reeled it all the way in, he bounded over to them, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet happily. Ging patted him on the head, taking the rod from him and bunching it together with his own.

“Yep. Come on, boys, let’s head back to the car,” he instructed. “I think there’s like some little picnic tables or something across the parking lot, so we can eat there. After that, how does a walk sound? There’s some nice trails around here.” Gon cheered. “Kite?”

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Okay, cool,” the man said cheerfully. When they reached the car, he opened up the trunk and put his and Gon’s poles inside, then stepped back so Kite could add his. After everything was stored away, he retrieved the cooler from the back of the car and they went to sit at one of the picnic tables. Lunch was an uneventful affair. Ging took the opportunity to go in-depth about fishing techniques, and Gon and Kite were properly confused. It only took him around ten minutes to realize his pupils were completely lost; Gon slowly ate his sandwich, staring up at him with wide eyes, and Kite had his arms folded on the table, brow furrowed. “Um, you look a little confused…” he pointed out. “Are you getting lost on the lingo or…?”

“Yes? No… I think…” Kite floundered.  “It’s fine; go on.” Ging chuckled.

“Okay, but I’ll try to use more layman’s terms,” he said, and then he continued on, talking a little more slowly and with a little simpler vocabulary. They finished eating shortly after, and Kite carried the cooler back to the car. When he returned to the picnic table, Ging was helping an excited Gon retie his boots, which, if Kite had been paying attention, had been untied for about the last thirty minutes of fishing. After Gon was all tied up in the shoe department, Ging led them off in the opposite direction of the lake. “When we first moved here, we used to come out here and go hiking and stuff all the time,” he explained to Kite. “Feels like I’ve been too busy the past few years…” ‘We…’ Kite assumed he meant him and his wife.

“It’s beautiful,” he said instead of prying.

“Yeah.” Ging smiled wistfully. “It is. So, you wanna start out on the one-mile trail, or the two-mile trail? I don’t know if you could do two miles, kid…” They had come up to a junction at the edge of the woods. There were two signs, one pointing down each of the two trails that split apart. Gon shook his head adamantly, pulling on Ging’s sleeve in the direction of the two-mile trail.

“I can do it!” he exclaimed. “I’m not even tired!”

“Eh… let’s start out on the one-mile… for Kite,” Ging lied, ushering them down the right fork. Gon assented, skipping along ahead of them a few feet and occasional stepping pasts the bounds of the path to look at the forest floor and up into the leafy boughs of the trees far above his head. Ging and Kite walked along behind him, enjoying a more leisurely, paced walk. “It’s starting to get cooler,” Ging said cheerfully, looking up at the orangey-green roof above them.

“It’s… fall, now,” Kite observed.

“Yeah, I can’t believe how early it gets dark now; it’s crazy,” Ging replied. “But hey, I’m not complaining. I love fall. I mean, what’s not to love?” (Plenty, thought Kite.) “It starts getting cooler and the leaves all change, and then, it becomes winter, and winter is, like, the only season better than fall. Heh.” Kite wanted to tell the truth, to say that he hated, _dreaded_ winter. To say that the very thought of winter made his stomach churn, that he wondered every year whether he’d make it to the next. But he knew it would make Ging feel bad, make him guilty, for some odd reason, and most of all, it would make him worried.

“Sure,” he said instead, and he knew that was a strange answer. It wasn’t even a valid answer, probably; what Ging had said wasn’t a statement that could be answered by ‘sure,’ was it?

“Yeah… I love winter,” Ging muttered, smiling at him in a way that made _Kite_ guilty, because he knew he was lying, knew he was keeping things from him, and Ging deserved better than that. “How about you? What’s your favorite season? I know it’s a stupid question, but whatever.”

“No, it’s… fine,” Kite replied, looking thoughtful. What was his favorite season? “Spring,” he answered finally. Spring was okay; it was a sign, as least, that winter was over.

“Solid answer. Hey, Gon, wait for us, kid,” he called. Gon skidded to a stop, turning around to face them. He looked happy, despite his father’s request for him to slow down. “Don’t get too far before, buddy.” The child nodded.

“Okay, Daddy,” he consented. He jogged back to them, grabbing ahold of one of Kite’s hands and then one of Ging’s, squeezing in-between them and swinging their arms back and forth. “This is so much fun! I’m having the best time ever!”

“Me too, kid,” Ging agreed. “After we walk, wanna go back to the lake and try out that fishing dealio again or what?”

“Yeah!”

“That’d be good,” Kite said, smiling slightly. “I think I might understand it a little better now. More wiggling.” Ging laughed.

“That sounds about right.” They walked along in a comfortable silence, enjoying the scenery around them and the cool breeze that was blowing through the trees. Overhead, the sky was a pale blue with fluffy white clouds sailing westward slowly. The forecast from the night before, it seemed, was correct. There wasn’t a sign of rain anywhere. After a few minutes, Gon decided the silence was too comfortable, and started to play a strange game of Twenty Questions with Kite, much like his dad had earlier, but a bit more extensive. After answering his favorite color (blue) and his favorite his animal (he couldn’t decide,) he asked something a little more invasive.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he questioned. Kite paused.

“Gon… we talked-” Ging began, but Kite interrupted him.

“No, I didn’t,” he replied.

“Where did you grow-up? Was it somewhere cool like a farm or a restaurant?” the child asked. Ging made a warning sound.

“I grew up in the city.”

“Me too!”

“You’re still growing up,” Kite pointed out.

“I’m all grown up,” Gon contested, and Ging snorted.

“Yeah right,” he said. “But why don’t you leave poor Kite alone? He doesn’t want to answer all these questions. Tell him about that cool planet mobile you made for school last month instead.”

“Okay! Guess what, Kite; last month in school, I made a _planet mobile._ Daddy had to help me, but I did a lot of it! It was for a _science fair_ at my school! I didn’t win…” He didn’t sound that sad. Kite saw Ging mouthing ‘sorry’ at him, and he shook his head slightly to say it was okay. 

“I’m sure it was awesome,” he replied to Gon. “Wait, is that the one I saw in your room? It’s really cool. So realistic.” Kite had noticed the mobile in Gon’s room, hanging up in the corner. It was a little rough around the edges, but he hadn’t paid it much mind, never really venturing into the child’s room unless he had a mission, and then, he had never really had time to take everything in. The little space was crowded with toys and decorations that all looked vaguely like crafts.

“Yeah! We bought all the planets as little white balls and then we painted them by hand! We used the pictures in my special science book.”

“Oh, really? Tell me about the planets. I don’t think I know all of them.” Of course he knew all of them. He _had_ gone to elementary school, after all. Still, he had started to understand the sorts of things Gon enjoyed over the past week, and explaining the things he had learned in school was definitely one of them. Gon nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay!” Kite tried to listen intently as Gon explained, nodding his acknowledgment as the child swung his arm back and forth more violently, but he kept noticing Ging smiling at him fondly. “And, I think Mars looks really pretty, because it’s red, and Earth is after Mars, and Earth is blue and green from space. At least, it looked really blue and green in my book. Wow! Look at that stump!” Gon let go of their hands, running forward. There was a stump just off the path a small distance away.

“Thanks for being so nice to him,” Ging said quietly. “I know you probably don’t want to answer stuff like that. I… I don’t really know about your childhood, but… well, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable because Gon doesn’t really understand privacy.” Kite shook his head.

“It’s fine. I really don’t mind. Gon is such a sweet kid, and he doesn’t mean anything by it,” he said truthfully. “Thank you, though.”

“Okay… I just don’t want you to feel obligated; you really aren’t.”

“I… I’ll remember it.”

“Good.” Ging smiled at him, and he smiled back. “You’re really good at dealing with kids. You always act like you aren’t, but you are. Gon likes you a lot, and Kurapika said Killua did too. I guess they know you’re just a big softie under all that mysterious-man-of-few-words business.” Kite looked incredulous, throwing a disbelieving glance at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He vaguely wondered what Killua had said that would imply that he liked him. The child had seemed distrustful and generally unhappy the entire time he’d been at the apartment. Maybe Ging was just saying it to be nice…

“It means you’re a big softie.”

“I am not.”

“You are too,” Ging countered. They reached Gon, who was squatted down by the tree stump and trying to count its rings with his tongue stuck out in concentration. As they approached, he didn’t acknowledge them, too caught up in his work.

“Fifteen… sixteen… aw, they get all messed up. I can’t count them,” he said, looking up them. “Hey, Kite, did you know if you that if you count how many ring you see in a tree stump you can know how old the tree was when it died?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty cool,” Kite said, crouching down next to the child and looking at the stump. It was difficult to see the rings clearly; the tree had obviously fallen a long time ago, and it was challenging to make out the individual rings past the moss and mold and sun-bleaching. Kite hummed. “You’re right, it’s pretty jumbled.” Gon had been trying to count them again.

“I can only count twenty!” he announced. “But that’s a really long time! And I bet it’s even older than that, right? I can’t see any more of them than that…”

“I bet it is,” Kite replied. Ging squatted down next to them, looking at the stump with squinted eyes. He didn’t seem to be having any more luck than either of them. After a few moments of them all staring at it in silence, Ging pulled back, standing up and stretching.

“You guys ready to head on?” he asked. “We got to get back to the lake if we want to do any more fishing. Well, if you want to keep walking, that’s fine too, but I don’t think looking at that thing is going to make it any easier to count ‘em.”

“Okay,” Kite said, standing up as well. Gon stood as well, grabbing Kite by the hand again and pulling him down the path. Ging followed after them.

“I wanna fish some more!” the child announced. “That was really fun and I like making the bait thingy move like a fishy!” Kite chuckled, allowing himself to be pulled along. Ging strode along beside him, hands in pockets and humming a little as they made their way down the path. They emerged back at the parking lot about ten minutes later, and Ging retrieved the poles from the trunk and redistributed them to his pupils before they headed back to the lake. They set up around the same place they had before, and Kite and Ging stood back a way watching as Gon enthusiastically threw his line out.

“This has been a great day,” Ging said fondly. “We’ll have to do it again before it gets too cold.”

“That’d be nice,” Kite said mildly. “I like it here…”

“Yeah, me too.”

 

x-x

 

After a few more hours of fishing, they loaded back into the car and left the park, heading back towards the city. The sun was sinking close to the horizon, bathing everything in orange light. Ging put his music back on, quieter, but it didn’t deter Gon from dozing off about thirty minutes into the trip. Kite felt a little drowsy himself, lulled by the calming motion of the car and Gon’s soft snores from the backseat, but he resisted the urge to fall asleep, recalling his difficulty the night before due to an unprecedented nap. So he tried to focus on the words to the songs and Ging humming along quietly beside him.

“You have fun?” Ging asked suddenly.

“Yeah, I did. I still don’t think I’m too good at fishing.”

“Not yet, but I bet you will be,” the man replied.  “I wasn’t kidding when I said you were kind of a natural. You’re patient; you don’t mind doing things kind of slow. That’s important in fishing. So, stick with it. You’ll probably be pretty good if you do.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Kurapika was texting me earlier.”

“Oh, yeah?” Kite questioned. He wasn’t really surprised that Kurapika had texted him; it seemed like it was the blonde’s preferred form of communication, but he was surprised that Ging would mention it to him. He wondered if it had something to do with him, then. The logical part of his mind told him that it probably had to do with dinner. The illogical part insisted it was something else, something bad, and that made him anxious. “What’d he say?” he asked.

“It was about the whole dinner thing,” Ging said, and the anxiety eased marginally. “Wants us to come sometime this week. I… my work schedule is a little shaky right now, but I’ll try to let you know before he loops me into something.”

“Okay.” 

“I know I’m going to be pretty late tomorrow. Do you want to pick Gon up from school? Or, if you’re not ready, I can get Kurapika to do it. He really doesn’t mind. It’s completely up to you, man.”

“I can get him.”

“Awesome. I really appreciate it,” he said. “It’s nice to have one less thing to worry about, you know? If you go and get him, I know I won’t have to worry about it. So… yeah, things you probably want to know… I think Kurapika usually feeds him something when they get home, so if you want to do that… don’t fret about homework or anything unless you want to. He’s usually pretty good about doing that kind of stuff, so you don’t need to worry unless I’m _really_ late.”

“Okay.”

“Most importantly… now, don’t forget this,” Ging said seriously, glancing over at him grimly. “Don’t worry about it, Kite. You’re gonna do great.” He laughed cheerfully, and Kite blinked, expecting something a little more helpful after all that buildup.

“Got it.”

“Good, and don’t you forget it, kid.”

“I’ll try not to.” They fell into a comfortable sort of silence. The road wasn’t particularly busy, a few cars and trucks but not much in the way of ‘traffic.’ The music was still playing in the background, a soft melodic sort of backdrop intermingled with the faint sounds of the car, and Gon was still snoring in the back, peaceful and serene after the long day of excitement. Ging was focused on the road ahead of him, wearing a thoughtful expression. Outside Kite’s window, the scenery blurred by just as it had that morning, a mess of green and yellow and orange light, becoming more and more mixed as Kite slipped closer to sleep. Then he dozed off, forehead falling to rest against the cool glass of the window.

He woke up to someone shaking his shoulder gently, and he drowsily looked over to see Ging grinning at him, hand resting on his shoulder. “Hey,” the man said. “We’re home.” Kite nodded, stretching out in his seat and Ging opened up his door, moving to the back door to rouse Gon. The child woke up a lot quicker than Kite, jumping out of his car and racing off towards the elevator. Ging pulled the supplies out of the back seat, handing the cooler off to Kite after he had walked up. Then, the two of them walked over to join the child.

The elevator arrived with a _ding_ , and they all piled on, Ging pressing the fifth floor button. It was a short ride to the fifth floor, and they walked down the hallway to the correct apartment. After Ging had unlocked it, they trudged inside. The fishing poles were quickly leaned against the wall in the foyer, and Ging ushered Gon into the bathroom for a quick bath before returning to help Kite make up something for a quick, late dinner. They didn’t talk much while they worked, preparing some canned soup and serving it out. Gon emerged from the bathroom, dressed for bed, around the time it was finished, and everyone sat down at the kitchen table to eat.

“So, did everyone have a good day?” Ging asked, and Kite nodded.

“I did!” Gon announced. “I had the best day ever, and I wish we could do it every day! It was most fun I’ve ever had.” Ging hummed.

“Well, you gotta go to school if you want to be smart, kid,” he said. “It’s important to go to school.” Gon offered his agreement, expressing how much he _loved_ school, and that he didn’t mind going, but he wished they could do more stuff outside. The father and son chatted amicably throughout the dinner, and after it was done, Ging took Gon off to brush his teeth. It was starting to get late by that point, around eight o’clock, and Kite supposed that Ging wanted to get the child to bed early since he had to go to school the next morning. He went to clean up the soup pan and the dishes, loading them into the dishwasher and starting it. By the time he had finished, Ging had finished getting Gon ready for bed and had steered him across the living room to get to bed before reappearing a few moments later, sitting down on the couch heavily.

“Get him off to bed?” Kite asked, standing on the threshold between the kitchen and the living room. Ging nodded tiredly, patting the spot next to him on the couch. Kite walked over, sitting down.

“Yeah… he seemed pretty tired,” Ging said. “He had a big day. How about you? You got up looking tired… aiming for an early bedtime?” Kite shrugged.

“I’m not too tired. I slept in the car.”

“Eh, I feel you. I think I’m going to go shower really quick, and then come watch a little TV before I go to sleep. Want to join me for a little Netflix?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

“Okay, I’ll go ahead and jump in, and then it’s all yours. I’ll try to find something halfway decent to watch until you get back.” Kite nodded. “Ugh, there’s so much junk on Netflix…” he muttered as he wandered off towards his bedroom. After he had showered, they switched places, and then, they congregated on the couch and Ging insisted on changing his shoulder dressings before they continued. When that was done, they watched some romantic comedy Ging had found that someone had recommended to him, even though ‘girly’ movies weren’t usually something he liked, he insisted. About a half of the way through, Kite thought Ging seemed a little teary but he wasn’t entirely sure why.

Nevertheless, they both made it through without falling asleep. As the credits rolled, Ging turned to him, looking very seriously. “That… wasn’t bad,” he said. “I mean, I thought it was okay. I… maybe if you liked that kind of thing, it’d be good.”

“It was fine,” Kite replied. “Not much to write home about.”

“Um… earlier, Gon was asking you a bunch of questions and stuff,” Ging said cautiously. “That… you said you grew up in the city? That was… this city?”

“Yeah,” Kite said. “I grew up not too far away from here, actually.”

“Oh, was that with… your parents?” he asked, and Kite wondered why he would bother asking if he was going to sound that awkward and guilty about it. He decided not to question it.

“No. I grew up in an orphanage,” he replied. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about it. He wasn’t really traumatized or something, he supposed. He knew other people had it a lot worse than he did, but something about it just made his vaguely uncomfortable like it never had before. He had never had a problem talking about it before, even with complete strangers who had asked, but something about Ging asking made him hesitate just a little. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to let him down.

“Okay.” Ging let it go, picking up the remote to change the television back to the cable output. Kite watched him, wondering if there was anything else he wanted to know that he wasn’t asking. His expression was altogether unreadable. He changed the channel to the news, watching as the newscaster started a new story with disinterest. Kite wondered if he should say something, bring something up even if it made him uncomfortable, because didn’t Ging have the right to know? Ging, who had been so kind to him, so considerate, who had opened up his home. Didn’t he want to know, and didn’t he know that he had _every_ right to ask?

“I lived there until I was twelve,” he forced himself to say, and then he had awkwardly trailed off, not saying anything more. Ging looked at him, nodding. “At the orphanage.”

“Yeah… alright,” the man responded. They didn’t say anything more and the silence became notably uncomfortable. After a few minutes, Ging yawned, stretching out his legs and arms before addressing Kite. “Well, I think I’m going to go ahead and get to bed,” he said. “I know it’s still pretty early, I guess, but it never hurt anyone to get a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep good, Kite.” Kite bid him goodnight as well, and Ging disappeared into his bedroom.

He had definitely said the wrong thing, Kite thought. Ging hadn’t asked for anymore, so it didn’t matter what Ging had a right to. If he didn’t want to hear it, Kite probably shouldn’t have tried to tell him. The man had so much stress at work, he more than likely didn’t want to hear Kite lament his perfectly _fine_ childhood. He had just asked where he lived. That was all. Kite silently scolded himself, staring down at the living room carpet disdainfully. Then he stood up, clicking off the television and heading into his own bedroom. He’d just have to learn from his mistake. There wasn’t anything he could do about what he’d already done.

He didn’t bother turning on the lights, pulling back the sheets and slipping underneath them. Then he laid down, trying his hardest to surrender to sleep, but finding himself always falling just short. So, he laid awake for a few hours, part of his mind trying to convince himself that he had ruined everything, that Ging wouldn’t talk as freely to him anymore, and maybe, just maybe, it would make it a little easier to leave, and another part of his mind scolding him, trying to convince him that a comment as small as that couldn’t possible ruin everything, couldn’t push Ging into an uncomfortable silence whenever he was around, because really? Had it been that terrible? No. It hadn’t, and Ging would _definitely_ forgive him, but maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe Ging would decide it as best if he left, because he didn’t want to be bothered with a bunch of emotional baggage… but, could simply stating a fact really count as emotional baggage? Eventually, he rolled over, dragging his eyes away from the thought-inspiring ceiling and scrunching them shut. He fell into an uncomfortable sleep.

Somehow, he managed to wake up around his usual time, even though he still felt exhausted. He caught Gon and Ging as they were leaving, saying goodbye absently. Ging seemed rushed, giving him a small wave but saying little as he tried to pull his babbling son out the door. He seemed tired as well, almost as if he had suffered from the same problem as Kite. Just as he was about to leave, he turned around, gesturing vaguely and telling him when he got home, they needed to talk about something. Kite had just nodded as the door slammed shut and locked. It didn’t really help the logical side of his brain’s argument… He decided to straighten up the closet in the foyer.

It took more than a few hours, but he was really able to whip that closet into shape, the boxes all stacked in neat rows in the back, and the coats hung up in a more organized fashion. It served as a pleasant distraction from his thoughts, so maybe, just maybe, he had moved a _little_ slower than he normally would. He stayed hyper-aware of the time, though; he needed to pick Gon up on time, or he knew it would only make whatever conversation he was due to have with Ging worse. So, he ended up walking down to the school an hour earlier than he needed to, and that meant he ended up in the merciless clutches of Kurapika, who was more than a little happy to have a ‘pleasant’ little conversation with him while they waited.

First, he learned that Kurapika was a librarian, and the blond loved that job, he really did. Apparently, he could even take Killua and Gon back there after he retrieved them, and that, Kite assumed, was where Gon was every day until Ging got off work. Secondly, he learned that Kurapika was, frankly, thrilled at the prospect of having them over for dinner. He had been telling his husband, Leorio, who was a doctor, all about it, and how they simply had to have them (the ‘Freecs,’ he called them,) over as soon as possible. Leorio, to hear him tell it, was just as thrilled. Then, he had started drilling him on possible times, and Kite masterfully deflected all of his attempts, very politely, until the blissful sound of the bell ringing and Ms. Bisky opening up the classroom door.

With Gon in tow, he had headed back to the apartment, hand held tightly in the child’s and listening to the best of his abilities as Gon described everything he had done that day in gruesome detail. He was still distracted, mind wandering to the little conversation Ging wanted to have later, Gon’s descriptions of bugs and the snack they had eaten offering little to no respite. When they reached the apartment, he dutifully prepared something for Gon to eat, and then suggested he work on his new spelling sheets. Gon happily agreed to do so, as long as Kite ‘helped,’ so they settled on the rug and Kite hummed along when appropriate as Gon went through the sheet, gently helping him along when he got stuck or did something wrong all while still feeling rather unfocused. After the homework, Gon went into his room to get something to play with before settling back onto the rug. Kite moved so his back was pressed against the base of the couch, picking up the book he had been reading and trying to distract himself with that for a while. It was difficult.

 Ging got back around six-fifteen, and he seemed glad to be home. Kite offered to make dinner, which Ging agreed to with little fight, flopping down on the couch and loosening his tie. They ate. Gon got ready for bed. They sat on the couch for a little while after Gon went to sleep, Ging surfing the channels with an exhausted expression and Kite trying to focus on his reading. Then, Ging excused himself, retreating into his bedroom, and Kite went into his own, and they didn’t have the talk and Ging forgot to change the bandages on Kite’s shoulder.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have any comments or suggestions, please leave them below.


	5. Dinner

 

Ging couldn’t avoid Kurapika forever. On Wednesday night as he was changing the Band-Aids on Kite’s shoulder, he grimly informed him that they were all penned (not penciled) in on Kurapika’s schedule for Friday night. Kite had nodded, equally as grim. After Monday, things had evened out. The next morning, Ging had been more than a little apologetic about forgetting his ‘grisly’ shoulder wound, insisting on changing it that morning before he left for work with the explanation that he had been too tired to even think properly. When he got back that evening, he was cheerful, just as chatty and amicable as he always had been, and by Wednesday night, Kite had forgotten all about his ‘mistake’ and Ging seemed to have forgotten all about the little talk they were supposed to be having.

On Thursday, Kurapika had been thrilled to see Kite, even though it had become a regular sort of occurrence for them to see each other when they were picking up their respective children. He had been positively bubbly about it, gushing about how wonderful the dinner would be until the bell rang, and Kite retrieved Gon and ran as politely as he could. Gon, as it happened, was an incredibly easy child to take care of. In general, he was very compliant, and Kite usually didn’t have to tell him anything twice. The only thing the child demanded in return was Kite’s participation in his homework or playing. Ging, true to his word, had been incredibly late coming home, forced to stay at work as late as nine and nine-thirty on Tuesday and Wednesday respectively. On Thursday, he had ended up returning in the early hour of seven, able to say goodnight to Gon properly before the child went to bed.

After Gon had been tucked in, he walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch next to Kite, smiling at him tiredly. “Hey, Kit Kite. How’s it going?” he questioned.

“Fine,” Kite said, before correcting himself. “Good, actually. Gon is a great kid.”

“Yeah, yeah, he is,” Ging agreed. “But I meant, like, how’re you doing? I haven’t hardly talked to you at all this week; I feel like I’ve been working all day and then when I get home, I just go straight to bed. It sucks…”

“Oh, well, I’ve been good too.”

“Okay…” Ging muttered, eyeing him from across the couch. “You’ve been… pretty quiet, so I was just wondering if everything was fine. But, that’s good if it is. Anyway, I think things might be about to ease up a little at work. At least, I won’t have to work these crazy hours anymore. I’ll probably be home around four tomorrow, and we’re supposed to be over at Kurapika’s at five, so we’ll have plenty of time to get there. Speaking of Kurapika, you looking forward to that?”

“Eh.” Kite didn’t look particularly enthusiastic. “Kurapika is nice. I always see him when I’m picking up Gon, and he’s always very friendly. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Ging agreed. “He’s like that… I always have the hardest time deciding if he actually likes someone or not. You know, like he acts so friendly towards people and then as soon as they’re gone, he starts complaining about them. It’s weird as hell.” Kite felt nervous; he had always _thought_ Kurapika had liked him from the way he chatted with him, but to hear Ging tell it, that wasn’t a very good indicator.

“Oh,” he said stiffly. 

Ging waved his hand vaguely. “Oh, I don’t mean that he doesn’t like you. I’m sure he does. That was a stupid thing to say. I mean, he never told _me_ that he didn’t like you, and I’m sure if he didn’t, I would have heard _all_ about it.”

“Oh,” he said again. Ging yawned, stretching. Then, he excused himself to go heat up some dinner, returning to the couch to eat it with Kite and watch the local news. After he had finished eating, he insisted on changing Kite’s bandages before he went to bed. It was a routine that, given how well it had already healed up, probably wasn’t necessary anymore, but despite how many times Kite said that, and also said that he could probably do it himself, Ging simply wouldn’t have it, dragging him into the bathroom night after night to change the Band-Aids himself. On that particular Thursday night, as he was replacing stuff underneath the counter and Kite was pulling back on his shirt, he whipped around suddenly, groaning.

“Ugh. I totally forgot!” He exclaimed, slapping palm against his forehead. “We were supposed to talk! Like, two days ago.” The nervousness that Kite had thought disappeared returned suddenly.

“It’s alright,” he said cautiously, and Ging shook his head.

“Nah, it was important,” he said. “But I’m exhausted, and you probably don’t want to do this right now. It’s almost ten. We’ll chat tomorrow, okay? I _promise_.” Kite nodded slowly.

“Okay, that’s fine.” Ging smiled his thanks and bid him goodnight, and Kite went into his own room. He had a hard time falling asleep again, staring up at the white ceiling sleeplessly, and wondering, again, what Ging wanted to talk about. He probably wasn’t going to kick him out, he told himself. If he had planning that, wouldn’t he have done it already? Who actually forgot about their plans to kick someone out? No, it probably wasn’t that, which meant it was something else, more than likely. He couldn’t figure it out, and he couldn’t sleep, so he went and sat by the window again, and he wasn’t able to return to his bed and fall asleep until three in the morning.

He woke up at six-fifteen feeling like he might as well not have slept at all, dragging himself up to say goodbye to Ging and Gon before trying to be productive for a few hours. Then, he fell asleep on the couch and woke up a mere twenty minutes before he was supposed to pick up Gon, so he had walked to the school as quickly as he could and managed to make it three minutes before school let out. Kurapika was already standing there, and he had laughed, saying he was worried Kite wasn’t going to make it. Then, very seriously, he had said that if he was ever a little late, it was fine, because he could always pick Gon up for him and then the child wouldn’t have to wait. Ging would probably hear about the incident later, Kite figured, so he resolved to never be late again.

They had walked home after that, with Gon clutching Kite’s hand and swinging it back and forth, excitedly telling him about the day and something Killua had done. Kite hummed along, nodding and offering ‘oh yeah’s at the appropriate times. He still felt distracted, anxious, but he tried to shrug it off. When they reached the apartment, he got the child a snack and then set him to work on his homework. Soon, it was four o’clock, and Kite was expecting Ging to come home. Then, it was four fifteen, and he still wasn’t there, and then it was half past four, and Ging came home and frantically started trying to get everyone ready and ushered out the door to the car.

Once everyone was strapped in, Ging let out a relieved sigh. It was four forty-five. “Okay, everyone good to go?” Gon and Kite both nodded. The man hummed, backing out of the parking space and pulling down out of the garage and onto the busy street. He navigated his way through the city before parallel parking in front of a little row of brownstones a few miles away from the apartment. He parked the car, killing the ignition before turning to look back and forth between Kite in the passenger seat and Gon in the backseat. It was four fifty-seven.

“Is this it?” Kite questioned.

“Yeah!” Gon responded. “This is where Killua lives!”

“Has everyone steeled themselves?” Ging asked, before chuckling to himself. “I’m joking. This is going to be great, yeah?” He sounded uncertain, and it made Kite feel uncertain as well; he wondered if Gon felt it too. Ging swung open his door, stepping out onto the sidewalk. Kite followed his lead, walking around the car as Ging helped pull open Gon’s door. It seemed as if Gon _did_ notice the tense mood; he was wearing a serious expression and holding onto Ging’s hand tightly. As they approached the third brownstone on the row, the little red door opened up and Kurapika appeared from behind it, smiling amicably at them.

“Hello, Freecs,” he said cheerfully, and Kite recalled Ging’s earlier words; how much of Kurapika’s cheery, friendly exterior was real? “I’m so glad you could make it,” the blond continued, stepping back as he ascended the stairs to allow them entry.

“Yeah, glad we could make it too,” Ging said casually as he walked past, kicking off his shoes in the small, beige foyer. Gon and Kite followed his example. “I have been so swamped at work lately. It’s been _terrible_. Oh, hey! Leorio, my man, how’re you doing?” A tall man had walked into the foyer, grinning brightly as he approached. He clasped hands with Ging, pulling him in before clapping him on the shoulder; then, he turned towards Gon and Kite.

“Hey Gon! What’s up, little man? I think Kil is still up in his room…” he trailed off, looking at Kite and turning a little bit more serious. Kite tried not to let his anxiety show. It wasn’t often he met someone taller than himself. “You must be Kite.” He smiled again, striding over and grabbing Kite’s hand with both of his own, shaking it firmly. “So happy to meet you finally.”

“You must be… Leorio,” Kite said, feeling suddenly stupid. “I… am. Thank you for having me over tonight.” Leorio nodded, waving him off after releasing his hand after just a few seconds too long.

“Of course,” he said, his tone cheerful. “Any friend of Ging’s is a friend of ours. C’mon. Why don’t you three come on into the living room? I think dinner is pretty close to being done, right Kurapika?”

“Oh, right, of course. Come on in,” Kurapika said, gesturing past the threshold of the foyer and into the living room of the brownstone. It was a nice little room, with plum painted walls and a beige couch pushed against the wall. The blond directed them to sit there. Ging seemed happy to make himself home, flopping down and throwing his arms up over the back. Kite sat down stiffly on the edge of the couch, hyper-aware of both his hosts, and Gon situated himself in-between them. “Would you like some wine?” Kurapika asked, walking over to a small, wooden wine rack underneath an idyllic landscape painting. “Although, Kite, I don’t think I’ve ever asked. How old are you?”

“Oh. I’m eighteen,” Kite replied awkwardly.

“Hm.” It was a judgmental sort of ‘hm,’ at least from Kite’s perspective. “Well, I suppose you’ll pass then.” Kurapika laughed, mostly to himself. “Ging?”

“Yeah, hit me up.” The blond poured out three glasses, passing them among the room’s of-age occupants. “Man, I can really use this; you know how I said I was slammed at work? It’s been _terrible. Pariston_ is making everything so freaking difficult right now, I swear.”

“Yes, yes, please refrain from swearing,” Kurapika said blandly, sipping his wine.

“What’s been up that’s so bad?” Leorio asked, and Ging launched into his spiel about the election and how terrible it was and how it was ruining everything; he didn’t even _want_ to be a senior associate, so he didn’t know why he was being pulled into the mess. Kite had been watching him talk, gesturing wildly with his wine glass with the red liquid threatening to spill over with every emphasis, until he noticed Kurapika staring at him. He found himself swallowing stiffly, trying to keep his attention on Ging and his story but finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the pair of hypercritical brown eyes watching him. Gon was cheerfully swinging his legs back and forth next to him, and he interrupted Ging mid-sentence.

“Can I go see Killua?” he asked. Kite silently hoped Ging would tell him to stay, because if Gon left, it was likely that the conversation would turn to something a lot less pleasant. Like him. Ging just shrugged, turning to their hosts.

 “If Mr. Kurapika and Dr. Leorio are okay with it,” he said nonchalantly.

“Of course, Gon,” Kurapika said pleasantly, and Gon jumped up, scurrying up the stairs along the back wall. After a few moments, they heard him shouting excitedly at his friend. “So.” There it was, the conversation change. “Where did you and Ging meet again, Kite?” Kurapika was still staring at him very pointedly. Kite swallowed, frantically trying to decide what he should say. He couldn’t tell him that Ging rescued him from getting shot and robbed.

“Well…” Kite began, about to admit the truth against his better judgment.

“Oh, Kurapika.” Ging interrupted him. “Do we have to? This is, literally, the most boring conversation I’ve heard. Let’s hear some dirt. What ever happened to that old lady that kept trying to jimmy up the… metric system or whatever?”

“Please, Ging, the Dewey decimal system. She hasn’t been back. And,” Kurapika said, looking at Ging critically. “I’m sure everyone else doesn’t find it boring. I was just wondering. It’s been a long time since you’ve made a friend without me.”

“That’s rude. You say I’m rude.” Ging looked unimpressed, rolling his eyes. “Leorio, are you just going to let your husband browbeat your guests like this?” Leorio laughed.

“You think this is bad? You should have seen what happened last week with the Mackernasseys. You know how Shoot’s been applying to all those colleges and stuff? Well,” Leorio chuckled to himself. “Kurapika decided he wanted to know what the kid was planning on doing, so he kept trying to ask him, but you know how Shoot is. Kid’s all skittish. It was really sad.”

“Oh, God, it sounds terrible,” Ging bubbled, laughing. “Why would you do it, Kurapika?”

“I wasn’t doing _anything,_ ” Kurapika defended, finally ripping his attention away from Kite. “I was just asking a few innocent questions. It’s not _my_ fault Shoot’s a little sensitive. Morel told me after dinner that he was _perfectly_ fine with it; you know how he worries about that boy; he said it was good that someone was pushing him a little. And it _was_ only a little, _Ging_.”

“Oh please, Kurapika,” Ging said, waving him off. “You and Morel worry way too much. You gotta just let kids grow up and stuff. Can’t worry about it too much.”

“Yes, well, I know you don’t worry too much,” Kurapika said bitterly, and Kite thought he was threw him a strange sort glace again, and Kite shrunk back a little, because the blonde’s sentiment was _quite_ clear, at least to him. Just as suddenly, Kurapika looked away again, glancing down at his watch. “Dinner should be just about done. I’m going to go take a look. Leorio, dear, could you go get the boys? Make sure they wash their hands.” He walked off into the kitchen, and Leorio jumped up, jogging up the stairs. Kite looked over at Ging. Ging was looking at him, smiling vaguely. He patted him on the leg before following Kurapika into the kitchen. So he knew the exact purpose of the dinner invite all along… a little forewarning of the eminent attack definitely would have been nice.

 

x-x

 

Soon, they were all settled in at the kitchen table. Killua and Gon had descended a few moments earlier with a flippant ‘hey Kite’ from the white-haired child, and Leorio had followed shortly after them. When everyone was congregated, Kurapika had herded everyone into the dining room, placing Ging, Leorio, and himself across one side in that specific order, and seated Killua, Gon, and Kite along the other, again, very pointedly. Soon, Ging and Leorio were chatting about soccer or something, and Gon and Killua were somehow having a very in-depth conversation about Legos, and that just left Kurapika and Kite as the two odd men out. Kite couldn’t help but feel like it was all very strategically done, and if it wasn’t being used against him, he’d have found it to be a very impressive battle strategy. Unfortunately, whatever the blonde’s plan, he had effectively caged Kite off from anyone (Ging) who might be willing to save him. 

Suddenly, Kurapika had spoken. “I’m sure Ging must really appreciate you picking Gon up for him every day,” It took Kite a few moments to reply. He knew his answer had to be well thought out, and unexpectedly, there was a correct answer to such an open-ended statement, and Kite wasn’t sure what it was, but he also knew he couldn’t show any weakness, or Kurapika would start questioning him again. (Was he overthinking this?)

“I don’t mind,” he tried. “Gon is a wonderful kid.” Kurapika hummed his agreement, and Kite wondered if he had said the right thing. (It _was_ true!) Maybe his answer should have been more precise or more informative. He couldn’t tell from Kurapika’s expression; the blond was unreadable.

“He is,” he said. “Such a sweet child, and so good-mannered. Sometimes, I wish Killua was that well-behaved. But, you seem very good at dealing with children.” Another strange sort of statement, not quite a question but still definitely asking something. Kite nodded.

“I grew up around younger kids,” he decided upon. It was sort of an explanation, he supposed, and it didn’t really pick at any unpleasant wounds.

“Younger siblings?” Kurapika questioned, setting down his fork and folding his hands together, planting his elbows on the wooden surface of the table. Kite had never felt so alone. He started to nod, but then shook his head abruptly. He didn’t have any younger siblings, right?

“No. Um…” he trailed off, and he knew that reply was a show for weakness for sure. In his current state, there was no way Kurapika would leave something so vague alone. He decided to beat Kurapika to the punch, even if that meant he was metaphorically punching himself. He shook his head again. “No. I… grew up in an orphanage.” He silently prayed. Killua was adopted, right?

“Oh, how interesting,” Kurapika said pleasantly, unfolding his hands and picking back up his fork, delicately eating a small bite of food before fixing Kite with another critical look. Kite tried not to choke on his own food, attempting to maintain a sort of calm. He swallowed stiffly. “Now,” Kurapika began. “I’m… aware of your… previous situation, but I don’t think I ever heard how exactly you and Ging… came to meet. How was that, again?” Kite blanched. Ging wasn’t there to defend him that time; he was still talking about something vague and complicated sounding with the doctor, seemingly oblivious to the intense interrogation on the other end of the table, just like Kurapika had planned, no doubt. (Was this all a plan? This was dinner… not an interrogation, right?)

“We… he… he helped me out of a little… trouble,” Kite finished lamely. Abort. Abort. Calling it ‘trouble’ was a terrible idea; Kurapika probably thought Kite was on drugs or something now. Kurapika’s eyebrows had risen ever so slightly, his hand pausing briefly in front of his chin as he stared him down across the table. Then it started moving again, and the fork was rested against the plate.

“I see,” he said, and Kite could only imagine the judgmental assumptions he was coming to if his eyes were anything to go on. “That certainly… sounds like Ging.”

“I… really appreciate everything he’s done for me.”

“I imagine.” Kurapika said, and they fell into an awkward silence canvased by the two happier conversations going on around them. “Well, anyway, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I think I already told you about what me and Leorio do, right?”

“Oh, yes, you have.”

“Hmm. It seems like I always forget those sort of things…”

 “Oh.” Suddenly, Leorio was dragging the blond into the sport conversation, trying to find someone who would be willing to side with him on whatever issue they were debating. But Ging seemed distracted, staring at Kite from across the table with a vaguely pitying look, chewing on his bottom lip until Leorio pulled him back into the dispute. Kite felt like a wild animal, and Kurapika was a hunter, trying to bait him into a trap. Ging was looking at him in pity, though, like it wasn’t quite right to hunt poor defenseless animals down for sport. Kite had never felt more defenseless.

For the rest of dinner, Kurapika never found the opportunity to grill him again. Throughout the rest of the meal, Kite was blissfully left in peace for the most part. Leorio addressed him a few times, but not quite as aggressively as his husband had, asking more about interests and hobbies. And after everyone had finished eating and talking, Ging had excused them. They moved into the foyer where Kurapika, Leorio, and Killua said their goodbyes. “It was so lovely to have you,” Kurapika said.

“Well, it was lovely to come,” Ging said almost sarcastically. “So thanks for having us, man.”

“Yes, thank you,” Kite replied.

“Gon, what do you say?” Ging questioned, and Gon gasped.

“Oh, yeah! Thank you, Mr. Kurapika and Dr. Leorio! I had a lot fun!” He hugged Killua before latching himself onto Kite’s hand, humming cheerfully while he waited for his dad to finish. Kurapika was looking at Kite critically again, and Kite grew tenser and tenser the more they lingered. More than anything, he wanted to run for it, but Gon’s hand was a heavy anchor, and he knew it would probably be _rude_ if he ran, and being rude was a terrible way to heal his already wounded reputation with the blond.

“Well, I’ll see you around, blondie, Leorio,” Ging said casually, turning and pulling the door open. “Hey, see you, Killua. You try to behave yourself.” Killua shrugged.

“Goodbye, Ging, Kite,” Kurapika said politely.

“Good luck with that work stuff,” Leorio said. “And it was great to meet you, Kite. I’m sure we’ll have you over again, so I bet I’ll see you sooner than later.” Kite nodded tersely. He didn’t want to come back, but these were _Ging’s_ friends. With a final set of ‘goodbye’s and ‘thank you’s, they left the brownstone, walking to their car parked across the street and piling inside. Once the door was closed, Kite noticed how Ging’s mood changed all at once, but he didn’t say anything. They drove home in silence, and made their way up to the apartment with only the sound of Gon humming. Then, Ging had gotten Gon ready for bed and tucked in, and Kite floundered around the living room anxiously. As soon as the child’s door was closed, Ging turned to Kite with a strange sort of expression.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “I didn’t think Kurapika was gonna grill you like that. I’m calling him for sure tomorrow. Someone needs to tell him that was uncool and not like him. Like… if you need to talk about it, we can-”

“It’s okay,” Kite said softly, interrupting him. He still felt incredibly edgy, and he knew, eventually, something was going to have to break. “I’ll be fine.” He said it more to himself than anyone else.

“Except,” Ging said. “It’s _not_ okay. Hey, let’s sit down. We needed to talk about something anyway, and it’s kind of related.” Kite nodded grimly, following him over to the couch and sitting down on what had become his customary spot. “So, um, you remember last… Sunday, right? We had kind of a weird, little… thing happen.”

“Yes,” Kite said, remembering very clearly the ‘weird little thing’ that had happened. Had it really been a big deal? It wasn’t a big deal. He felt his anxiety return in full force. Ging hummed.

“Yeah… um, listen, I feel really bad.” What? “You were, like, trying to talk to me and I kind of just brushed you off. So… I just wanted to say: if you ever need to talk, I’m there for you, man. And you don’t ever have to feel obligated to tell me something you don’t want to. I promise I’ll understand.”

“Oh, okay…”

“And I really am going to call Kurapika,” Ging said. “It’s not cool to play freakin’ jeopardy or whatever with your guests. Um. You don’t have to, but try to cut him a little slack. He can be kind of… jerky every now and then, but it’s only when he’s worried about stuff.”

“Oh.”

“So… are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Kite cleared his throat, looking down at the carpet awkwardly. “But… I know how busy and stressed you’ve been at work. You really don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. Yeah. I don’t want to… add to your list of burdens. And I definitely don’t want to hurt your relationship with Kurapika because of something stupid like this.” Ging made a little pained sound.

“No! Kite!” he said frantically. “You’re… you’re family now, and that means you go before work or anything. So if you ever have a problem, I don’t care how busy I look! I _want_ you to bother me. Please…” The man swallowed. Kite was staring at him with furrowed brows. Ging continued. “Look. Kid. I really do want to know. So… if there’s ever anything you want to tell me, I’m here. That’s all I had say, and then I got kind of sidetracked by Kurapika being an asshole. Basically: I’m here for you. If you want to talk, don’t hold back.”

“Oh.”

“Got it?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Kite cast his gaze back to the carpet, chewing on the inside of his lip.

“So?” Ging asked suddenly. At Kite’s confused gaze, he elaborated. “I mean, is there anything you wanted to talk about? You’ve seemed kind of distracted the past couple of days, so if there’s anything you wanted to talk about, I’m here to listen.”

“Huh?” Wow. So Eloquent. Kite blinked. “Oh, no, I… I don’t think so.” He vaguely tried to recall what had made him so ‘distracted,’ as Ging had put it. It had been the very talk they were having, and it certainly hadn’t turned out any of the ways he’d imagined, so it probably wasn’t a very good conversation topic. He… he was worried about Ging kicking him out, or asking him to leave. He didn’t know why he hadn’t, and he was worried about what would happen when he did. It was almost winter, and he didn’t want to leave, but why should Ging let him stay? His shoulder was basically healed. There wasn’t any reason why the man should continue to burden himself, and right now, Ging wanted to talk. He could settle the issue once and for all, find out where they stood.

“Okay, that’s cool too,” Ging said warmly, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. “I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you, man. I got your back. And I’m not going to let anyone get all up in your wheelhouse again.”

“Okay… Thanks,” he said, trying to find the courage to just ask, but then Ging was a lot closer than he was before, and there were hands on his back and arms wrapped around his abdomen. Suddenly, there was something warm and soft pressed against him, and a puff of warm breath on his ear, and the hands were moving a little on his back. There was a familiar mess of dark hair brushing against the side of his face, and a familiar sort of scent (like the apartment, only stronger), had enveloped him completely.  His eyes widened and he went stiff, and when Ging spoke again, it was right next to his ear and he could _feel_ it there when he did. 

“Sorry… you just looked like you could use a hug.” A… hug. Right. Ging was hugging him. “Shh, try to calm down a little. You’re as stiff as a board and twice as tense. It’s going to be alright, Kite.” Kite nodded, wiggling in the grasp ever so slightly. Slowly, he freed his arms, loosely wrapping them around Ging. Ging hummed. And suddenly, Kite was struck with how much it felt like home, how it felt so comfortable and so _right._ He couldn’t stop the moisture welling up in the bottom of his eyes, or the way his hands started to shake ever so slightly. Then he fell apart completely. The tears came. He buried his face into the crook of Ging’s neck, and dug his fingers into the material of his shirt and sobs shook his entire frame. Ging tightened his hold, hands moving to his upper back where they rubbed small circles, but it only made the tears and the shakes and the _emotions_ worse.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Ging,” he choked out between sobs, and he supposed he was apologizing for crying. He felt Ging shake his head. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” his soft voice replied, and his could feel it rumbling in his chest. “Go ahead. I’ve got you; I promise. I’ll _always_ be there for you, Kit Kite.” They just sat there for a long time, wrapped up in each other, and Kite found himself unable to stop the tears once they came, silently sobbing into Ging’s shoulder while the man rubbed tiny circles into his back.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had just cried. He felt like it had been a long, long time ago, far beyond the reaches of his memory, shoved away in the back of his mind underneath all the hurt and pain and coldness. But now, he felt so warm, and the lamps were casting comfortable yellow light throughout the room, and Ging was so tangible and real and comfortable, but his tears just wouldn’t stop, and he couldn’t figure out why they had come in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave any comments below! And thanks again to my beta Abby (@twelfthpaldi) for all her help.


	6. Unexpected

Kite must have fallen asleep. When he woke up, he was still on the couch, laying sort of on top of Ging with his face pressed against his chest. One of the man’s arms was loosely slung around his shoulder, fingers laying limply against his back, entangled in his hair. For a few drowsy, warm moments, he was confused, trying to recall how exactly he got into said position before he recalled the events of the previous night; his face heated up as he remembered, and he tried of wiggled free of the arm without disturbing its still-sleeping owner. Once he was free, he looked at the clock, still feeling a little tired. It read five-fifteen. He stood, stretching out his sore limbs. Frankly, he felt terrible. He was congested; his head hurt; his eyes felt gritty and raw.

Outside the window, the sky was just starting to lighten around the horizon, and there was a bird chirping somewhere in one of the trees just beyond the apartment walls. Kite wondered if that had been what woke him up. Suddenly, there was a loud yawn from behind him, and he whipped around to see Ging just waking up, blinking away the sleep.

“Hey,” the man said dozily. “It got kind of cold all of a sudden.” Kite just stared at him. “Wow. You look… rough. How do you feel?”’ He heaved himself up, stretching like Kite had just a few moments before. Kite shrugged.

“Not… not that great,” he said awkwardly. “Um. Sorry for crying on you.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Ging muttered, walking into the kitchen and starting up the coffee pot. “Gon used to cry on me all the time. It’s endearing.”

“Gon is six.”

“So are you.”

“That’s… not true, Ging.”

“Whatever. Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” Ging had gone ahead and filled up two mugs before he even asked, but after Kite accepted, he handed one over, walking back to the couch stiffly and easing himself down. Kite followed suite, sitting down a little more gracefully than the other. Ging glanced at him craftily, and Kite glanced back over the rim of his mug with a furrowed brow. “What?”

“You damn kids spring back so fast,” Ging said sardonically. “I’m still suffering over here.” Kite rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his coffee as he turned his attention to the window. The sun had just started to peek up over the edge of the earth, turning the cityscape into a dark silhouette and making the orange leaves on the tree just outside the window look fiery.

“We should probably try to actually sleep,” Kite observed. “Instead of drinking coffee. I… I didn’t sleep well the night before either, so I’m really screwed now.”

“Live a little,” Ging retorted, gesturing with his mug. “You can nap when you’re dead. It’s time to grab the day by the horns, Kite. It’s not like you’re going to _actually_ pass out from exhaustion or something.” Kite didn’t appreciate his comment, and chose not to reply. “Gon’ll probably wake up in a bit. He always wakes up early for some reason. I’ll never understand that kid.”

“He’s just energetic.”

“I guess.” Ging shrugged, setting down his cup on the side table and flipping on the television. The news was on, and he turned down the volume as to not disturb the still-sleeping child. Kite always wondered why Ging watched the news so much; he didn’t seem to enjoy it. He didn’t notice Ging looking at him critically. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Kite said. “A little tired, but you literally _just_ told me to live a little, so I guess I’ll survive.”

“No… I meant, are you _okay_?”

“Oh.” Was he? His little cry the night before had been the first one in a _long_ time, probably in over half a decade. In a way, he felt better. All of the tension was strangely gone, at least for the present, and even though his nose was quite sore, he felt suspiciously okay. Still embarrassed, but suspiciously okay. “I think I’m fine. I think I’m… better.”   

“Well, that’s good,” Ging said. “You probably needed to do that. Sometimes it’s good to get that kind of thing off your chest a little. Hey, if you ever need a muscular shoulder to cry on again, you know where to find me; this one right here will be waiting for you.” He patted his shoulder with a sly smile. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Ging,” Kite replied sarcastically. “But really, thanks.”

“No problem.” They fell into a comfortable sort of silence. Kite picked up his book and Ging started flipping through the channels. Slowly, the sun rose up in the sky, casting golden rectangles across the carpet and waking up the city below them, and with it, Gon. The six-year old seemed to hear the television, trudging out of his room with a big yawn and settling onto the couch in-between them. It didn’t take long after that for the trio to head into the kitchen to prepare some sort of breakfast (toast and eggs) to eat before finding something productive to do.

After breakfast, they returned to the kitchen. Gon wanted Kite to help him with a spelling workbook he had, which Kite was glad to do, and Ging had starting looking over some documents for work. After a few hours, it was lunch, and they made sandwiches, and then it seemed like Ging was getting tired of being cooped up in the apartment, especially on such a nice day.

He suggested they went to a park right down the street; he said it was a nice little park, a great place to go for a walk, and he also needed to stop by the store on the way back, because apparently, they were out of bread. After eating, Kite volunteered to wash the frying pan if Ging loaded the dishwasher, and Gon ran off to get ready for the park. They worked in silence, until Ging suddenly spoke quietly, drying his hands off on a dish towel. “Have you ever… been to Greenfield Park before?” he asked. Kite looked contemplative, not reading much into the seemingly benign question.

“Hm… I don’t think so,” he said. “But I’m not sure.”

“Oh,” Ging muttered, and suddenly, Kite realized the implication behind the words. When Ging asked if he had ever _‘been’_ to the park, he meant had be ever stayed in the park. It was a harsh, but welcome, reminder of who he was.

“No. I haven’t ever been there,” Kite corrected, because he was fairly certain it was true.

“Okay, I was just wondering.” The man brightened, setting down the towel and stretching. “Ow, man, I’m still sore. I’m not as young as I used to be. Well, I guess I’ll follow the kid’s example, go get ready. You gonna be ready in like fifteen minutes, or you want me to hold him down?”

“No, no, that’s fine. Fifteen minutes then?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, sounds good.” They parted ways, only to reconvene with Gon fifteen minutes later before heading out onto the street. It _was_ a nice day, but there were grey clouds collecting on the western horizon, and a strong, east wind blowing against their backs as they walked down the road. It wasn’t long before the park came into sight, and they passed through the little opening in the fence. The park was a large greenspace, sprawling out over a hilly terrain and surrounded by tall, steel-colored buildings. It was fairly empty that afternoon, just a few joggers and an old man feeding pigeons.

They walked around the park for a while before Gon spotted a playground and asked if someone (Kite) would push him on the swings. Ging was more than happy to sit down on the bench a short distance away and ‘watch’ them. And then, it started to rain. It started as a light drizzle, and they, fortunately, took shelter under a little gazebo before it turned into a downpour, beating down on the wooden roof of the structure relentlessly. Ging checked the weather radar on his phone, staring down at the screen with furrowed brows.

“I don’t even see any rain,” he complained. “What the hel- heck is this? Look; do you see anything there? Because it looks _pretty_ clear to me.”

“Not really,” Kite said pacifyingly. “I bet’ll pass in a few minutes. It’s probably just a pop-up shower. It was a little hot yesterday, and it’s pretty cool today. It’s always like this when that happens.”

“Wow, when’d you become a weather boy, Kite?” Ging asked sarcastically. “It doesn’t really change the fact that it’s _raining,_ and that _sucks._ ” He looked like he was about to continue, but Gon cut him off, spinning around from where he stood dangerously close to the edge of the roof.

“Can I play in the rain? Please, Daddy?” he begged. “It’d be really fun! Look at all the puddles…”

“I don’t know…” Ging muttered.

“Please? It’s okay, right, Kite?”

“Um, it’s your father’s choice.”

“See, Kite thinks it’s okay.”

“Oh, well,” his father conceded, smirking. “If Kite says it’s okay, I guess you can.”

“Ging, I never said,” Kite began, but Ging waved him off and Gon cheered, jumping off the edge of the gazebo and into a large puddle. The water splashed against their legs, soaking through the fabric of their pants. The child seemed unfazed, skipping off and jumping around in the accumulating puddles. “Wow,” Kite said mildly, watching the child with a small smile. “Look at him go.”

“I know, right? I wish I had that much energy,” Ging said fondly. “But hey, don’t you want to go join him? Your pants are already wet, and he looks like he’s having a _lot_ of fun.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to get sick,” Kite replied. “Shouldn’t you be worried about Gon getting sick? It can’t be healthy to get wet, especially with how cool it’s been getting.”

“What can I say? I’m irresponsible. And Gon’s got a pretty killer immune system. But… it might be fun to go join him… whatcha say, Kit Kite? Or are you too chicken?”

“I’m not chicken at all,” Kite said, glaring at him. Ging smirked, stepping down off the edge of the gazebo and kicking some of the water up on Kite’s legs. “Wait, are you serious? What was the point of getting underneath the gazebo in the first place if you’re just going to get wet for fun?”

“There wasn’t one,” Ging admitted. “Now, come on! Let’s have fun. I let you get _my_ shirt all wet last night. I’m ready to repay the favor!” Kite’s face heated up.

“Well!” he exclaimed. “I’m… I’m going to get your pants wet too, then!” he threatened childishly, joining Ging at ground level and using the side of his foot to splash water up Ging’s leg relentlessly. The man groaned, recoiling.

“Oh, man! That technique! You’re… too strong, Kite!”

“Yay! Are we splashing?” Gon cried enthusiastically. “I want to splash somebody!” He kicked at the puddle with his feet, not really splashing anyone in particular, but drenching both of their ankles. The rain was still coming down heavily, soaking through the materials of their shirts and gluing their bangs to their foreheads. Ging grinned, shoving Kite playfully, and Kite couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips. Maybe, sometimes, it was okay to be a little irresponsible.  

After about thirty minutes of playing in the rain, Ging seemed to get tired, suggesting they all head back to the apartment to dry off. So they trudged home, dripping and cold and looking increasingly out-of-place as the little popup dissipated and the sun returned. Ging floundered for a few moments outside the door, trying to pull out his keys; then he unlocked it, swinging it open and letting Kite and Gon in before making his way to the bathroom to retrieve some towels. Gon was giggling, flicking little droplets of water off of his fingertips, and Kite wondered if he should stop the child from the getting water onto the drywall. He watched him, glancing over at Ging as he returned and handed him a towel. He started trying to wring the water out of his hair with the towel.

“That looks… like a challenge,” Ging said with a smirk. “So… what’s up with all the hair?” He dropped a towel onto Gon’s head, trying to dry the child off a bit.

“Huh?” Kite answered intelligently. “Oh. I don’t know. I… like it?” Ging hummed. He had dried off Gon as much as he could, before giving the child a gentle shove towards his bedroom. Gon ran off.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” Ging said. “You should put it in a man-bun. I’m sure you’d be, like, _so_ handsome.” He chuckled, and Kite looked at him.

“You like headbands,” he observed in retort, even though it wasn’t much of a retort.

“You bet,” Ging retorted. “Headbands are awesome. Ah, man, we forgot the bread!” He slapped his forehead, laughing, and Kite smiled at the sound. He liked it when Ging laughed. It was deep, sincere sort of laugh, earnest and unmasked. There wasn’t anything hidden behind the sound.

“Well. We _are_ irresponsible.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ging said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Somehow, the device had managed to stay dry despite the rain. As he stared down at the little screen, his brows furrowed, and then he looked up at Kite with a curious sort of expression. Kite raised an eyebrow, and Ging cleared his throat. “Ah, it’s a text. A guy from work just texted me. Pariston; you remember me talking about him, right? He asked me if I wanted to go out with him and a few other people from work tonight. That’s… weird. People from work never ask me to go out with them. Well, I usually turn that kind of stuff down because of Gon…” he trailed off.

“Oh,” Kite replied.

“Ugh. I don’t want to ask you to babysit,” Ging said, sounding anguished. “But the guys _never_ ask me, and this would be a great opportunity to work out some of the stuff with the election when everyone’s a little… loosened up. Would you mind? It’d only be a few hours.”

“No, of course not,” Kite said quickly. “I already said I don’t mind. It’s the least I can do, given the circumstances.” He wasn’t sure why Ging would trust him with his child, but they had progressed past the point of questioning that. Kite wanted to help however he could, since he was staying there purely on Ging’s good graces at the moment. Ging made a pained expression.

“C’mon, man,” he said. “I hate it when you act like that; I don’t want you to feel obligated. I really… I really don’t mind you staying here. I… I like it. You know. It gets… lonely sometimes, and it’s nice to have you here. I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to do anything.” Kite blinked.

“I don’t mind watching Gon,” he replied. “I like Gon, and he’s a good kid. You should go out with your work friends. Especially if it’ll help with the election.” Ging smiled at him fondly, dropping his towel on Kite’s head as he walked past.

“Aww, you’re too good,” he said as Kite pulled it off, smirking at him. “Anyway, you wanna get changed? You’re kind of really wet. Pariston said they were going to meet up around eight, so I was thinking we could make a casserole for dinner. You haven’t tried that yet; it could be your secret calling.” Kite snorted, and they started to walk into the living room.

“I doubt it,” he said. “But it sounds like a good idea.” They parted ways, changing out of their wet clothes, before reconvening in the kitchen. Gon had made himself comfortable on the couch, flipping through a little book he had that seemed like more pictures than words, humming cheerfully to himself. Ging started pulling things out of the fridge.

“So, you think ground beef would be good?” he asked. Kite looked confused.

“Aren’t we going to… follow a recipe?” he questioned, and Ging grinned.

“No way, man; casseroles are all about feelings,” he informed him. “You have to make it up as you go along, or otherwise it’ll never taste right.”

“That sounds… fake, but okay. I suppose ground beef would be okay… but I’m not really having any… feelings about it. Is that bad?”

“Yes! We’ll have to use something else then… I’ve never made a casserole that didn’t have ground beef before… no, no, it’s good. It’ll be an adventure!” Ging seemed confident. Kite wanted to protest, because should food really be an adventure? But he didn’t.

 

x-x

 

The casserole, as it happened, was surprisingly okay. They ended up using canned chicken, which added an interesting sort of texture to the dish. After they had eaten, Kite and Ging cleaned up the kitchen before returning into the living room. Gon had started playing with his wooden block set there, and Ging grinned as he watched him. Over the past few weeks, Kite had gotten used to Ging’s smiles, but this one was different. It was sad; there was something mournful hidden behind the pull of Ging’s lips, and then Ging looked over at him, and the smile faded away. Kite realized he was staring.

“So… you said your friends were meeting at eight?” he asked quickly. Ging shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said. “I’ll probably head out in an hour or so. I probably need to take a shower… yeah, I’m going to go do that.” Kite nodded, and Ging walked off towards his bedroom, leaving Kite to his own devices. He went to read his book. Ging, true to his word, left after an hour with promises of returning before eleven. It was a quiet evening.

Around eight-thirty, Kite got Gon to bed, making sure he brushed his teeth and tucking him in before returning to the couch. Ging said he’d be back by eleven, so he figured he could wait up on him, just to make sure he got in okay and the door was locked and all that. There was a sort of anxiety of welling up in his stomach, and he wasn’t sure why. There wasn’t anything unusual about going out with friends; just because Ging hadn’t done anything of the sort in the weeks he had been staying there meant there was something inherently wrong. So, he told himself he was being silly, and Ging would be home when he said so, and then he’d know that his worry was for nothing because there was no reason why Ging wouldn’t return when he said he would. But he kept remembering that sad little smile, and he couldn’t stave off his anxiety. There was something hiding behind it, and that made it different. Ging’s laughs, Ging’s smiles, they were always open and unguarded. They never hid things. He finished the book, but he hardly remembered the end, and around midnight, he dozed off.

He woke up at one forty-five; at least, that was what the blocky numbers of the cable box read. Kite sat up stiffly, regretting falling asleep on the couch for a second time in a row, before he realized he was woken up by a noise in the kitchen. It sounded like a voice, muffled and familiar. He vaguely registered that it was the phone and he furrowed his brow, walking towards the kitchen. Was it Ging? It didn’t seem like the man had returned, and suddenly, the anxiety was stronger than ever. However, it wasn’t Ging’s voice emanating from the device, but Kurapika’s, saying something about an emergency. Kite paused, feeling breathless, before picking it up.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank goodness!” the blond replied. “Kite, Ging’s in the hospital. There was an accident. I’m going to be there in fifteen minutes to pick you and Gon up.”

“Wait, what happened?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there. Just get Gon ready to leave, okay? Pack up a few things. It’d probably be best if you and Gon stay with me for a few days.” Kite was really panicking by that point, but he figured Kurapika wouldn’t appreciate that, so he bit down the frantic questions that were forming on the tip of the tongue. He swallowed with some difficulty.

“Okay,” he said finally. “We’ll be ready to go. Do you want me to come and meet you out front?”

 There were some muffled sounds, and then Kurapika replied: “That’d be good.” And then he hung up without saying anything else. Kite sat the phone back in its cradle with shaking hands before taking a deep breath, steadying his hands and striding across the living room. He needed to be composed. He pulled open the door to Gon’s room quietly, stepping inside. There was no point to getting Gon upset. It’d be best to keep the child as calm as possible, so he woke him up by gently shaking his shoulder and telling him to get dressed. Once he was assured that Gon was actually awake, he walked into the foyer and opened the closet door, silently thankful that he had noticed the bags Ging had stashed there.

Once Gon was ready to go and Kite had packed up a few of Gon’s clothes, he took the child’s hand and lead him down to the curb. Gon seemed confused, still sleepy and blinking, but he didn’t protest to being pulled along down to the street and waiting until a car pulled up. Kurapika quickly killed the ignition and stepped out onto the asphalt, walking around the car to where the two were standing. His expression was grim and exhausted, but he managed a small smile at Gon.

“Hello, Gon,” he said, “I’m so sorry you had to wake up this late.” Gon smiled.

“Hi Mr. Kurapika,” he said dozily. “What’s happening?”

“Everything’s okay,” the blond replied, throwing a cautious glance at Kite before helping Gon into the back of the car. He took the bag from Kite and put it there as well, before gesturing for him to get in the passenger seat. “You’re going to stay with me and Mr. Leorio for a few days.” He walked back to the driver’s side and got in, and Kite sat down in the passenger seat, watching the man intently and waiting for him to explain. The panic was still churning in his chest and his palms were sweaty, but it didn’t seem like Kurapika was very inclined to say anything, navigating the streets to his condo. Leorio was waiting outside, and Kurapika gestured for Kite to just wait in the car, picking Gon, who had fallen asleep again during the ride, up and handing him to his husband. Then he returned to the vehicle.

Kite decided to risk his ridicule, and asked: “What’s happening?” mirroring Gon’s earlier words. Kurapika sighed loudly, not moving the gear out of park. “Is Ging hurt?” 

“Did you know he was going out drinking?”

“He… he said someone from work texted him.”

“Oh, I see,” Kurapika replied critically, not elaborating. He shifted into drive, looking back before driving down the street. Kite wasn’t sure where they were heading.

“What happened?” he asked again. To hell with trying to pacify Kurapika; right now wasn’t exactly the best time for Kurapika’s apparent prejudice against him to get in the way. He wanted to know what happened to Ging, and his hands were starting to shake again.

“Well,” the blond said in an annoyed tone. “Ging decided to go drinking, and then he fell down a staircase. He was waiting to be seen when I left, but I thought it would be best to go get you and Gon. I’m his emergency contact, for whatever reason.”

“Oh.” They fell into an awkward silence. Kite kept watching the blond, hoping he would provide more information without him having to ask, but Kurapika seemed perfectly happy to just drive along in silence, looking annoyed more than worried. “Was he… was he okay when you left?” he prodded cautiously. It didn’t seem like the anger was directed at him, but he knew that could probably change at any given moment. Kurapika sighed again, a long exhalation, before glancing over at him and offering a small, tired smile that surprised Kite.

“I’m sorry. You’re probably very worried, and I’m not being very kind,” he said. “I’m not entirely sure of his condition, but the nurses were keeping an eye on him, obviously. They’ll probably want to keep him at the hospital for a few days just to be careful, but he should be perfectly okay after a while. Like I said, he fell down a flight of stairs. I… I don’t know how hard he hit his head, but I imagine he’ll be just _fine,_ given time. Well. I suppose that thick head of his was good for something.” Kite sighed in relief, and the pressure on his shoulders seemed to lift just a bit; if Kurapika was making jokes, the situation probably wasn’t too grave. It didn’t seem like Kurapika to make light of a bad situation.  

“Okay. I…” he trailed off, looking at the dashboard blankly. Kurapika didn’t leave him any time to regain his focus, clearing his throat authoritatively.

“You and Gon will stay with me and Leorio until he’s released, of course,” he said.

“We don’t want to bother you,” Kite said quickly. The idea of actually staying with Kurapika was horrifying to say the least, and he knew that had to be the last thing Kurapika wanted as well. The blond practically hated him; at least, that was how it seemed, if the dinner from just a short two nights ago was anything to go on. He was surprised when Kurapika shook his head.

“No, of course not,” he said, softer than before. “It won’t be a bother at all. I… I just can’t believe Ging would do this. It’s _incredibly_ irresponsible, and I… I thought we had moved beyond this sort of petty behavior.” Kite looked confused, but decided not to press. After a few minutes, Kurapika continued with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I know this doesn’t make any sense to you. I had just hoped this would… this would stay in the past, is all. I thought Ging was in a better place now. But… that doesn’t matter. We can only go forward from here.” Kite could interpret the meaning of the words easily; perhaps, not too long ago, this wouldn’t have been that odd of an occurrence.

It only took them about twenty minutes to reach the hospital, and Kurapika parked the vehicle in the lot in front of the Emergency Room before disembarking and heading towards the doors. Kite followed after him. At the front desk, the blond asked about Ging, and the nurse, after consulting the computer, informed him that he had already been moved to a regular room. Even though visiting hours were over, she said, they would let them up since they hadn’t had the chance to see him already. Kurapika thanked her, and they navigated their way through the large hospital to the proper room. It was a fortunate coincidence that a nurse was emerging from the room as they arrived. 

Kurapika was quick to explain who he was and ask about Ging’s condition, and after just a moment’s hesitation, the nurse complied. Apparently, Ging’s condition wasn’t too severe; he’d recover given time, just like Kurapika said, but the injury was more than just a concussion. Ging’s left arm was fractured, though only the radius was broken and it was not out of place, so no surgery was necessary. It would heal in around two weeks, but after that, he would require some therapy before his arm was back to its full strength. However, it was the concussion that would keep him in the hospital for a few days of ‘observation.’ Kurapika had just taken it in with a grim expression, and Kite bit back the plethora of questions he had, all a little too panicky for him to be comfortable with sharing them.

After she had explained all this, she told them it was fine for them to stay a while, though Ging was still unconscious. It wouldn’t be long, she said, before he woke, but since it was so long after hours, it might not be possible for them to stay for that length of time. Kurapika had nodded, thanking her before pushing the door open and walking inside; Kite followed after him. Ging was laying on the hospital bed just inside, and the room was quiet except for the sound of the heart rate monitor beeping in the corner. He looked okay, almost like he was sleeping, much to Kite’s surprise. Then again, he always had a rather rumpled appearance so maybe that as why he seemed so normal.

“Ugh,” Kurapika said suddenly. “I really can’t believe he’s done this.”

“He must not be a very… graceful drunk,” Kite muttered, before regretting it. Kurapika would probably think he was insensitive, and he wasn’t even sure if the blond could think any less of him. He was surprised when the other laughed, a small chuckle but a chuckle nonetheless.

“I suppose not,” he said. “But really, what was he thinking?”

“He said people from work don’t invite him out very often; he thought it would be a good idea for the election… or whatever,” Kite replied, repeating Ging’s earlier explanation. Kurapika fixed him with a critical look and Kite shrunk down a little under the gaze.

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” he said, and Kite felt anxious. “But, that is what he said, isn’t it? It sounds _exactly_ like what he would say. Something must be bothering him; classic Ging, thinking he can just drink away all his problems! Well, I say that’s a lie. Would you like to stay a while, Kite?”

“Oh, whatever’s fine,” Kite muttered, and Kurapika smiled at him. He was acting like he used to, back at the school before the dinner. Kite was reminded of Ging earlier words about the blond, and resolved to be as amenable and irreproachable as possible.

“We should head back to the house, I think,” Kurapika replied. “You look exhausted. Well, come on. I’ll call Leorio and tell him to fix up the couch. You don’t mind taking the couch, do you? I feel terrible for you and Gon,” he trailed off, looking down at the laminate tiles as they walked. “What was that man thinking? At least he didn’t go home…” Kite watched him curiously, wishing he knew the whole story but feeling too timid to ask. To hear the blond tell it, Ging had been a raging drunk, but Kite just couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t have done that to Gon, could he? He may have been a little on the irresponsible side when it came to discipline and that sort of thing, but he’d never actually do something that could _harm_ Gon, right? Kite told himself that Ging would never.

They made their way to the car in a silence, and drove to the brownstone with nothing but the faint sound of the radio echoing through the car. Out the window, Kite watched as the sleeping streets passed by, completely empty save for a few sleepless beings. He heard Kurapika sigh beside him, and he shifted awkwardly in his seat, reminded, suddenly, of who exactly was sitting in the driver’s seat. He didn’t even notice when they pulled up in front, not until Kurapika killed the ignition and he felt a light hand resting on his knee. He looked over, blinking, and Kurapika gave him a small smile.

“This will all work out,” he said. “Try not to worry yourself. Ging will be fine. They said it wasn’t too bad, remember?” Kite nodded, and he hoped the only damage would be physical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave any comments below, and thanks again to my beta Abby (@twelfthpaldi) for all her help.


	7. Talks

As it happened, Kurapika had a very comfortable couch. However, that didn’t really help Kite in the realm of slumber; he found himself staring up at the beige ceiling sleeplessly well past the four o’clock hour. It was around five that he heard someone walking down the steps and then the lights in the kitchen flipped on, barely noticeable from the living room. Kite quickly closed his eyes, trying to determine the best course of action; pretending to be asleep was definitely the best route. It must not have been very convincing.

“Kite?” Kurapika’s familiar voice sounded through the quiet room surprisingly loud. Kite opened his eyes quickly, sitting up. The blond was walking out of the kitchen and into the living room holding a glass of water. He sat down on the edge of one of the chairs, taking a sip of his drink “Having trouble sleeping?” he asked, and Kite noted his exhausted expression.

“Ah, no,” he said truthfully. “I don’t know…” It wasn’t a very intelligent reply, but it was benign enough. Kurapika hummed his agreement, pushing at his bangs from his forehead.

“I understand,” he replied. “I’ve been having the same problem. But I think it may be for a different reason. Um. Do I make you uncomfortable, Kite?”

“Wha-what?”  Kite stuttered. “No! Of course not! I really… appreciate you letting me stay here.”

“Please,” Kurapika said softly. “I _wanted_ you to stay here. I’d feel terrible if I had just left you all alone…” he trailed off before continuing. “I’m sorry if I seemed a little… aggressive the other night. I worry about Ging. I really hope you understand. But after what happened tonight, I realize that my worry may have been misplaced. You’re a good person; I can tell by how worried you are, and I can tell how much you _care_ about Ging and Gon. And now, I’m worried about you, because you’re probably having an _incredibly_ difficult time adjusting, and everyone is only making it _more_ difficult, especially after this little stunt Ging pulled tonight.”

“Oh…” Kite simply, wondering if Kurapika really meant what he said. It was definitely a big change from his previous attitude, but people change, he supposed. His thoughts drifted to Ging, but he forced them back to the conversation at hand. “I’m… fine.”

“Ging called me, earlier,” Kurapika replied. “Around eleven. He was angry, and he kept telling how terrible I had been and how I had made you… quite upset. He said you cried.” Kite’s face heated. Why, Ging? “I didn’t mean to do that. I suppose I just got a little… carried away. Either way, I hope you can forgive me for my behavior. It was entirely uncalled for.” Kite quickly shook his head.

“No!” he protested. “I mean, of course I forgive you… but there’s no reason for you to apologize. And I’m sorry that Ging… called you.” Kurapika smiled.

“You really are _so_ much politer than him,” he said. “Why do you put up with him? Well, I suppose we all have our reasons for putting up with him. I don’t have work tomorrow, so I’m going to try to get a few hours of sleep. You should try do the same.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess.” The blond patted him on the shoulder before walking off, making his way upstairs wordlessly. Kite laid back down, staring back up at the ceiling again and trying to focus on how exhausted he felt in hopes he would drift off. He did. 

He was woken up a few hours later by the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen, and he sat up, pushing back the blankets and swinging his legs over the edge of the couch. He found himself uninspired to try and fall back asleep, especially when someone else in the house was apparently awake.  He vaguely wondered if it was Kurapika, but if the blond had managed to fall asleep, he doubted that he would be up already. He was interrupted from his musings by someone speaking.

“Hey, kid.” It was Leorio, sipping out of a white ceramic mug and sauntering it into the living room, plopping down on the chair. “Sleep good?” he asked. Kite paused; Leorio seemed like an amiable enough man. He knew there was no reason to hesitate.

“Ah, good enough,” he said. “Last night was… stressful.” Leorio agreed, shaking his head grimly.

“I’ll bet,” he said empathetically. “Ging’s a little bit of a… handful, and none of us were expecting him to do _this._ ” Kite swallowed stiffly, shifting in his seat, and looking over at Leorio from underneath his bangs. In a way, he felt more comfortable asking the man than he did asking his husband.

“Kurapika kept mentioning that… Ging did this sort of thing a lot,” he said vaguely. Leorio opened his mouth but then he paused, before shutting it and sighing.

“Dude doesn’t deserve a bad rap,” he said. “He’s a good guy, deep down. He had some trouble a few years back, but it was because of his… his wife and that sort of thing. He was fine when it first happened, but then… ah, man, I probably shouldn’t tell you this. It’s kind of Ging’s business. You should ask him about it. He’ll tell you; he doesn’t really believe in keeping things from people.”

“He said that someone from work invited him out… and that he thought it might help ease things up with the election,” Kite replied softly. “Do you think that’s true?” Leorio shrugged.

“I guess only he can know,” he said. “You’ll have to ask him about that too. Let me know if you find out, okay?” He chuckled to himself, taking another drink of his coffee. “But, enough about Ging. How’ve you been doing? I know it’s only been a few days since I saw you, but we didn’t really get to chat then. Kurapika was hoarding you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh yeah? You look like crap, no offense.”

“None taken… I actually kind of feel like crap.”

“Maybe you should try to get some more sleep. It’s…” he trailed off, checking his watch. “It’s just eight. You could sleep a few more hours.”

“I don’t know…” Kite was going to say more, but Kurapika had just descended the stairs, looking perkier than the night before, walking into the living room after he reached ground.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. There was something fake about it, like some sort of anger was hiding right behind the words. “Did you sleep well, Kite?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“That’s good,” the blond replied, sitting down. “I was thinking we might go to the hospital as soon as Gon wakes up. I imagine Ging is conscious by now, and I’m sure Gon will want to see him. This is probably… very confusing to him. Although, he was very calm last night; he’s such an excellent boy.”

“I tried not to rile him up,” Kite said, trying to suppress a yawn. “I figured there wasn’t any point in that.” Kurapika nodded grimly.

“You’re right,” he said. “There’s no point in letting _Ging_ upset any of us. It’s really not worth it. Oh, I’m sorry, Kite. You probably aren’t as bitter as us.” Kite just blinked. He didn’t sound particularly sorry, and Kite knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of Kurapika’s reproach.

“C’mon, babe,” Leorio said reasonably. “Now you’re just upsetting people, me included. I’m sure Ging didn’t mean for it to be so bad.”

“Ging never _means_ for anything to be that bad,” his husband replied bitterly. “But it always is. I just… I just can’t believe he pull this sort of behavior _now._ He’s like a child.” Leorio sighed.

“Let’s not bicker about it. Who wants eggs?”

“Fine.” Kurapika crossed his arms and leaned back against the sofa, and Kite just nodded gratefully. The doctor stood and left, making his way into the kitchen. Kurapika sighed, closing his eyes and laying his back against the cushions of the couch, before opening them again and looking over Kite. “You want to go see Ging, don’t you?” he asked, and Kite was about to answer before he paused. Of course he wanted to see Ging, but at the same time, he wondered if it was the same Ging that he knew before; he was already having a difficult time associating the two. The Ging he knew was sweet and thoughtful; he loved Gon and wanted the best for him. The Ging Kurapika described was a hapless drunk who would endanger the safety of those around him just to drink away his problems, completely irresponsible and out-of-touch with reality. But then he nodded slowly.

“Of course,” he said. “I hope he’s doing better.” Kurapika waved him off, saying that of course he was; he was Ging, after all. Then he continued:

“I wish he would just remember his responsibilities,” he said bitterly. “He always seems to forget that there are people relying on him. Maybe… maybe you could talk to him. I think he just brushes me off, but maybe if you said something, it’d sink in more.” Kite blinked, looking confused.

“I don’t know if I know enough to do that,” he replied. “I mean, you’ve known him a lot longer than me. But… I can try, if you want.”

“That’d be wonderful. That man is impossible! He always runs off and does these sorts of things, and one day, he’s not just going to spring back.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head, before standing and walking upstairs to wake up the children. There it was again; Kurapika was talking about that stranger, that ‘Ging’ he didn’t recognize. How could it be the same person? How could that Ging be the same Ging was had held him while he cried or sat with him that night at the window? How could he be the same man as that man who adored his son and hung up Gon’s drawings on the fridge and laughed fondly at the child’s enthusiasm? He couldn’t see them as the same man; his mind refused to make the connection. In his thoughts, they were two different people. One was a kind, gentle father; the other, a reckless drunk. His rational side insisted that he was being ridiculous and that everyone had problems and that Ging was just the same as he had always been, but his emotional side had the advantage of exhaustion and stress. He was interrupted from his thoughts by Leorio calling him into the kitchen.

They ate, and then Kite, Kurapika, and Gon left the brownstone and drove to the hospital. As they drove, Kite was distracted, lost in thought as he watched the world pass by outside his window. Which Ging would they find at the hospital? Part of his mind said that the Ging he thought he knew never existed; it was all just a delusion, a trick he playing on himself to believe someone cared. The other part of his mind said it would be the same Ging, the Ging that he had made casserole with that evening, the Ging that had smiled at him and promised to be home by eleven. He never decided which part was right, because it only took them a short fifteen minutes to reach the hospital, and then Gon was dragging him towards the glass sliding doors by the hands, chattering cheerfully about how excited he was to see his father.

Kite just hummed his agreement, apologizing to a nurse Gon almost bumped into, and glancing back at Kurapika, who was just trailing along behind them with an odd sort of smile, or some sort of guidance or reassurance. He had never been in a hospital before; it was just like he imagined, to an extent. It smelled clean, or, more accurately, like cleaning products, and it was bustling with other visitors and hospital staff. He was surprised, however, by the beige walls of the hallway; he had always heard that hospitals were overwhelmingly white, but there were always exceptions, he supposed.

After navigating their way through the halls, they arrived at Ging’s room, and Gon pushed the door open, walking in with a bright ‘Hi Daddy!’ Kite and Kurapika followed after him. Inside, they found Ging sitting up. His arm was in a cast, like it had been the night before, and he had sort of pained expression at Gon’s loud exclamation, but he still smiled, patting the child’s head when he was close enough.

“Hey buddy,” he said softly. “How’re you doing?”

“Mr. Kurapika said you were in the _hospital_ ’cause you got hurt!” Gon told him. Ging chuckled.

“Yeah…” he trailed off. “I guess that’s what happened.” He looked up at Kite and Kurapika, giving them a small smile as well. “Hey Kite. Kurapika. Did I miss anything?” It was said in a light, almost playful tone, but there was something hidden behind the words. Part of Kite wanted to believe it was guilt.

“Oh, I don’t know, Ging,” Kurapika said bitterly. “Nothing important, it would seem. Unless, of course, there was something you forgot.” Ging blinked.

“Wait. Did I forget something? C’mon, man, don’t mess around with me,” he pleaded. “I’m in the hospital, and I’m like… pretty sure it’s wrong to mess around with a guy in the hospital.” Kurapika huffed, sitting down in the chair and crossing his arms, looking on as Gon climbed up onto the bed and sat down with his legs over the side, swinging them back and worth. With every hit of his leg, Ging’s expression became more pained. His headache must have felt terrible, Kite thought.

Suddenly, Kurapika stood up. “Gon,” he said, and the child looked over, confused. “Let’s step outside. I believe Kite and Ging need to speak.” Gon nodded, still confused, but he followed Kurapika outside the room. Kite watched him go frantically. He was still having difficulty reconciling the inconsistencies in Ging’s personality; he didn’t want to be left alone with him. Once the door closed, he flipped around to face Ging, who was watching him with furrowed brows.

“Is something wrong? You look freaked out,” he asked. Kite floundered for a few minutes.

“Um… are you feeling better?” he questioned finally, and Ging sighed, then shrugged.

“I feel terrible,” he answered. “I’ve got a killer headache, and I’m drowsy. This is the worst. I’m on some pretty nasty painkillers right now, too.”

“Oh. Well. I’m sure you’ll feel better. The doctors…” He trailed off, and then he closed his throat. “Kurapika told me to tell you to… remember your responsibilities or something. I don’t know. He thought you’d listen to me, for some reason.” Ging laughed.

“Wow. That’s so Kurapika. I’m sorry this happened, Kite,” Ging replied. “It’s stupid. _I’m_ stupid. I don’t really remember what happened. I… I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t apologize to me,” Kite said slowly. “You should probably apologize to Gon. If you had _really_ gotten hurt, can you imagine what that would have been like to him?” Ging looked guilty, and suddenly, Kite was reminded that this _was_ the same Ging. In fact, it felt like any other time, except for the obvious reasons, like the cast on Ging’s arm and the heart monitor in the corner and the hospital just outside the door. He forgot, almost, about the things Kurapika had said, and he smiled slightly. “But I’m glad you didn’t get hurt worse,” he admitted, and Ging returned his smile.

“Yeah, me too.”

 

x-x

 

Ging was kept in the hospital for three days, total. The day after Sunday, Kurapika and Leorio had to go back to work, so Kite spent most of the morning and afternoon at the hospital, feeling uncomfortable about staying in their house without them, and he left when school let out, volunteering himself to pick up Gon and Killua.  Both afternoons, Gon asked to stop by the hospital to see his father, and Killua didn’t protest, and on the last day, Ging was released before school let out. Kite was already at the hospital, but they still called Kurapika, and the blond insisted on coming, walking into the hospital room with a small, grim smile.

Over the past few days, Kurapika had sort of let go of his righteous anger, but he had held on to the bitterness. Although he stopped being quite so openly critical, that underlying disapproval of Ging was almost suffocating, and Kite was discomforted by the unwarranted kindness Kurapika was showing _him_. So, he was happy that they would finally move back into the apartment; that is, he _was_ happy, until Kurapika revealed his plan once they were all loaded into the car.

“Since you’ve managed to break your arm,” the blond said. “I figured you should stay with me and Leorio. I don’t really feel comfortable letting you go home alone.” Ging looked affronted.

“Come on, Kurapika!” he said indignantly. “I’m not a kid! And I really just want to go home. The hospital _sucks_.” Kurapika made an offended sound.

“Well, maybe you should have considered that before you went and got drunk!” he countered. “And you _need_ someone to watch after you. The doctor said you could be dizzy for a month, especially after that fall, and we can’t risk you falling again!”

“Where am I going to fall down, man? I live in an apartment, and it’s only one floor. I _promise_ to take the elevator every time I need to leave,” Ging said sarcastically. “See, it’ll be impossible for me to fall down. And, I’m an adult, so I think I get to choose where I live.”

“I wasn’t really worried about you falling down anything sober,” Kurapika retorted, keeping his voice even and controlled and his eyes on the road. Ging narrowed his eyes.

“What? You think I’m going to get wasted again?” he asked. “Is this what this is about? You don’t think I can stay sober? God, Kurapika. You need to get a life. I’m not going to go out and I wouldn’t do that with Gon in the apartment. I kind’ve feel like you don’t trust me.”

“I don’t,” the blond replied simply. Kite shifted in his seat, looking down at the carpet of the vehicle. He was sitting in the back seat, and it was almost as if the two other occupants of the car had forgotten about him. Ging was glaring at Kurapika, obviously furious at his reply.

“Well, I don’t think that’s very fair!” He had raised his voice, pivoted around in his seat to face the blond. Kurapika didn’t even seem to acknowledge him, just sighing and keeping his eyes on the road. “Kurapika, you know that I’ve moved past that stuff!”

“Then what happened, Ging?” Kurapika said suddenly, glancing over at him with fiery eyes. “Then what happened? Because as far as I can tell, you did it again just a few nights ago, just like old times! So, I think it’d be best if you came and stayed with me and Leorio again, just until we can be certain you’re not going to go off again! Is this even the first time? I mean, you have Kite to babysit now; have you been going out drinking every other night and I just don’t know about it?”

“No! Of course not!” Ging defended, and Kite shook his head. Kurapika eyed him in the rearview mirror, and then he sighed.

“I still don’t like it,” he said. “But you’re right. You’re an adult, so I can’t stop you. Maybe you should call Mito to come stay with you. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, and your mother would be fine for a few weeks.” Ging huffed, shaking his head.

“No way. I’m not getting Mito involved.” They had come to a stoplight. “And plus, I won’t really be alone. Kite’ll be there… I mean, I’m not saying I need someone to take care of me, but, like, if I had any trouble. He could help… or get help.” They both looked at him. He looked back and forth between them, and then realized they were waiting for a reply. Kurapika, obviously, wanted them to stay with him. Ging, obviously, wanted to go home. Kite wanted to agree with Ging; going back to the apartment, which had become home to him over the past weeks, was the most appealing option. However, Kurapika, he had come to learn, was a force to be reckoned with, so it’d be best to stay on his good side.

“Oh, yeah, I can help,” he said conciliatorily. “If Ging really wants to go home, I… don’t mind.”

“Aw, Kite, you’re the best!” Ging exclaimed, reaching back his good hand for a high-five. Kite paused, but then he returned it awkwardly. Kurapika glowered.

“Fine. But we’re going back to the condo first. I’m sure Kite will want to get his things, and I’ll have to pack up Gon’s. He’s all spread out up in Killua’s room,” he said despite his irritated expression. Ging nodded, settling down in his seat. When they arrived, he patted Kite on the shoulder as they walked towards the front door, giving him a grateful smile. Kite wondered if he had done the right thing. He could take care of someone, right? Of course he could, but maybe deep down, he was still worried about being alone with Ging. In the hospital, there had always been nurses or doctors bustling in and out of the room and in the hall, but in the apartment, they’d be completely alone… he pushed the thoughts from his mind. It was still Ging.

They didn’t linger long at the condo, but by the time they were done, school was about to let out, so they stopped by the school on the way to the apartment to pick up Gon and Killua. Kurapika let them out on the curb, giving Kite and Gon a tight smile, and then shooting Ging a warning look before saying goodbye, giving a little wave, and driving off. Gon led the way as they entered the apartment complex, and Kite forced them to take the elevator, just like Ging had promised.

The apartment, unsurprisingly, was just like Kite left it four nights previous. The book was sitting on the arm of the couch, and the closet door was slightly ajar. Gon’s bed was unmade. He had made sure to turn off all the lights before they left, but it was still earlier in the afternoon, so there was plenty of light flooding through the windows. Gon cheered, racing off to his bedroom, and Ging sighed contentedly, walking to his own room. Kite walked over to the living room window, looking out at the cityscape sprawling out beyond it, and then he noticed the tree just outside. The leaves were almost entirely orange, particularly fiery with the light of the sun filtering through.

The month of September would end soon, he noted, and they were just days away from the first, official day of fall. And it was noticeable. The air had cooled, and the days were shorter. All throughout the city, the trees were changing from green to shades of gold and orange. But Kite had hardly noticed. No, he had been distracted, distracted by Gon, by Ging, by everything that was happening. He hadn’t had time to contemplate the changing of the seasons. He sighed, walking away from the window. As he walked into the kitchen, Ging emerged from his room, grinning at him as he walked over.

“Thanks for telling Kurapika you were going to keep an eye on me,” he said. “I really didn’t want to stay with him. You don’t actually have to do anything, you know. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Kite nodded his agreement.

“Anytime. I wanted to come back here too,” he said truthfully. “Staying with Kurapika was a little… stifling. Um… do you remember calling him when you were drunk?”

“Wait, what? I did?”

“Yeah, apparently you chewed him out for being mean to me… and you told him I cried.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Ging laughed awkwardly. “I was planning on chewing him out anyway… but I wasn’t going to tell him that.” Kite smiled; it was the same Ging. It was just like old times. It wasn’t like anything had changed, but he was wearing a cast, and things _were_ different.

“That’s fine. I just wondered if you remembered,” he said.

“So you’ll forgive me?”

“I mean, it’s _Kurapika._ He’d have probably found out anyway, somehow, even if it meant torturing someone or something.”

“But… you’ll forgive me for what happened?” Kite looked over at him; Ging looked anxious, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip and watching him intently, waiting for an answer.

“Of course,” he said. “There’s not anything to forgive.” And he believed that. Ging didn’t have any responsibility to him, no obligations. If anything, he should be asking forgiveness from Gon; Gon relied on him, _needed_ him, but Kite was an adult, and he could take care of himself.

“I feel terrible,” Ging replied. “I gave you that whole spiel about family and stuff the night before, and then I kind of ruined it, didn’t I? God. I really messed shit up this time.”

“Only a little. I’m kidding. Everything’s okay, right?” he said, leaning against the counter. “Just… be more careful? I don’t know. I don’t like giving advice, and you seem like you… regret getting hurt, so I’m sure you’ll be more careful next time.” 

“There’s not going to be a next time,” Ging retorted darkly. “Hey, Kite, can we talk about something really quick?”

“What are we doing right now?”

“You know what I mean, smarty.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Kite figured this wasn’t really the proper time for sarcasm. “What’s wrong?” Ging cleared his throat awkwardly, and Kite shifted, suddenly feeling anxious.

“So, yeah, I was just kind of wondering if you wanted to… leave?” Ging asked, and Kite froze.

“What?” Did Ging want him to leave? He waited anxiously for the man to reply, and Ging blinked, silent. Kite continued. “I… do you want me to leave?”

“Oh my God! No! That’s not what I meant,” Ging replied quickly. “I just thought… you might not want to stay. I know before, you said you’d just stay a few weeks, and well… it’s been a few weeks, and I… wondered if you wanted to leave…”

“I… don’t.”

“Um, if you want… you can just stay… stay for good, okay? I… I said you’re family now, and I… I kind of meant it. I want you to stay… for as long as you want,” Ging said, before laughing awkwardly, and rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. “Like, emphasis on ‘as long as you want’, okay? I _want_ you to stay, but…” he trailed off, staring down at the tile.

“I want to!” Kite said quickly. “I… I want to stay, if you don’t mind. But I won’t stay if I’m… getting on your nerves- or you don’t want me to.” Ging laughed, and Kite looked at him unappreciatively.

“Sorry, that’s just stupid,” the man replied. “I don’t think you _could_ get on my nerves. You’re too sweet… ugh, you know what I mean. Anyway, I’m going to go and lay on my bed and try to forget that stupid hospital bed. Damn, that thing was the worst.” Kite smiled at him, watching as the man walked out of the kitchen and into his bedroom, letting the door fall partially shut behind him but not making any move to close it all the way. He walked over to the couch, sitting down and picking up his abandoned book. He had finished it, hadn’t he? He didn’t really remember the end… he’d have to reread it sometime, but he didn’t really feel like it at the moment.

He was left in silence for a few minutes, just staring down at the carpet absently, before Gon ran out of his room, grinning widely. He was holding a piece of paper, and he held it out proudly when he reached the couch. Kite took it from him with a gentle smile, looking down at it. They had apparently had a spelling quiz in Gon’s class, and the six-year-old had gotten them all correct. Kite smiled a little wider, handing the paper back.

“Well done, Gon!” he said. “See, I told you you’re really good. Did you show your dad?”

“Huh? Oh, not yet…” Gon said, looking thoughtful. “He seems really sad… I didn’t want to bother him.” Kite blinked, opening his mouth to say something but then closing it.

“Oh,” he said finally. “Well… you should show him. I’m sure he’d be happy to see it. He’s really proud of how smart you are. You should go show him right now; if he is sad, I bet that’ll cheer him up.” Gon giggled, nodding before walking over to Ging’s room and pushing open the door. Kite settled back onto the couch, listening as Ging praised the child. He heard them come out of the bedroom, and he sat leaned forward, looking around the corner to see the father and the son walking into the kitchen.

“This is going on the fridge, buddy,” Ging said cheerfully, attaching the paper to the fridge with his good hand, right next to one of Gon’s crayon drawings, before stepping back to admire it. “That’s so cool, little man. You did good. You sure know how to make your old man proud.” He patted Gon on the head, grinning down at him. Kite smiled. Yes, he definitely wanted to stay; he _wanted_ to stay with _them,_ because he was starting to believe Ging really meant it when he said they were family. And despite the cast and the lingering memories from Saturday night, maybe everything could go back to the way it was before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for all the support this fic has gotten! I really appreciate your feedback, so please leave any comments/suggestions below. Also, thanks again to my beta, Abby (@twelfthpaldi) for her help.


	8. Care and Caring

The first few days after they returned home were rocky. As a general rule, Ging resisted all of Kite’s aid with a fervor; he didn’t _need_ his help, he insisted, and he didn’t _want_ Kite to ‘go out of his way’ to help him. He seemed almost embarrassed. Fortunately, after the first few days, Ging seemed to realize that Kite was a lot more stubborn than he let on. That must have been how Kite ended up sitting on the tile floor of the bathroom while Ging was taking a shower.

It wasn’t that Kite wanted to, really. He realized that it was probably making Ging’s shower a lot less enjoyable knowing that someone was literally sitting in the room waiting for him to be done, but Ging’s dizzy spells had almost seemed to be getting worse over the past few days. The previous night he had almost passed out when he stood up from the couch, and Kite suspected that Ging thought nobody noticed the way he would pause sometime, like he was worried about going on. Then he would keep walking, like it never even happened, but Kite always noticed.

“The fact that we’re not talking is only making this weirder,” Ging said suddenly, and Kite hummed his agreement, picking at the corner of one of his nails in an attempt to distract himself from the stifling discomfort that had slowly filled the small room. “You wanna chat?”

“What do you want to chat about?”

“I don’t know… tell me something good?”

“Um…” Kite trailed off, looking down at the ground. What was something good? They hadn’t really done anything individually since Ging got out of the hospital (he was going back to work the following Monday) so he wasn’t sure what Ging wanted him to say. “I… finished that book.”

“Wait, really? You’re quick.”

“But I don’t really remember what happened. I fell asleep.”

“Eh, I thought it was pretty weak anyway,” Ging replied. “Did you see that piece of paper Gon brought home the other day?” Kite paused, trying to remember if he had seen any piece of paper. Gon hadn’t shown it to him, which was unusual. Usually, Gon was always eager to show him anything he had gotten. Ging seemed to take his silence as a cue to continue. “Yeah, it was this thing about music lessons… I was thinking about starting Gon is something like that… but I don’t know if he’s too young or not. What do you think?”

“I don’t know if he’s too young. Doesn’t Killua take piano lessons or something? What’s more important is if he wants to do it,” Kite said. Ging hummed. “Did he say that he wanted to learn how to play something?”

“He didn’t. I just found the paper in his backpack…” Ging trailed off. “Do you think he’d rather play soccer or something? I’m not sure… I think it’d probably be good if he was all artsy and shit, ‘cause that stuff grows your mind or whatever, but he’s so… energetic. Did you play any kind of instrument when you were young? Wait. That’s probably a dumb question.”

“I actually did,” Kite retorted dryly. “Mrs. Morow… the lady who ran the orphanage tried to teach me how to play this old piano she had, but I don’t think I was that good. Actually, I’m pretty sure I was terrible. I tried to practice, but… you know. And I haven’t really played in, like, six years?”

“That’s still really cool,” Ging said. “I never learned how to play anything… well, I tried to play the trombone, but my rhythm is the actual worst. But, yeah, maybe I should try to get him some lessons… he might like it. But… if I do, you have to go all his recitals, because you said I should I make him do it, so it’s partially your fault.”

“I never told you anything.”

“And you have to cry, and you have to take a bunch of pictures.”

“Why?”

“Because someone has to, and it’s not gonna be me.”

“I’m only going to cry if it’s really bad,” Kite answered disinterestedly. “And I think you, as the enthusiastic father, should have to take the pictures.”

“Fine; you’re no fun,” Ging said, laughing. Kite chuckled to himself. “So, yeah, I’m going to get out now. You wanna leave or what?” Kite stood up, stretching.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” he replied, walking out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him, leaning up against the adjacent wall, listening for Ging to make it out of the shower safely. After a few moments, he heard the curtain slide open, and he relaxed. It didn’t take Ging long to dry off and pull on his clothes, walking out of the bathroom and raising his eyebrow when he saw Kite standing there.

“You’re being a little weird, you know?” the man said, but his words didn’t sound quite genuine. “I mean, what kind of depraved creep are you?”

“I’m- I’m not. I just don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself again. Once was more than enough.”

“Well, I appreciate it, I guess, but I still think you’re kind of coming on a little strong,” the man replied stiffly. “I’ll be okay, Kite; you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not gonna…” He trailed off with a faraway look in his eyes. Kite raised an eyebrow.

“Okay. I’m still going to help you,” he said stubbornly. “It’s still pretty early… were you planning on doing anything tonight?” Ging looked contemplative, before smirking.

“You know, there was this TV series that started about three months ago - a bunch of people were telling me to watch… and I never really got around to it,” he replied slyly. “Guess I didn’t think it would be that fun to watch by myself.” Kite smiled, rolling his eyes.

“So… I’m assuming you want to watch that.”

“How’d you guess? You game?”

“I’m a psychic,” Kite replied wryly. “But yeah, that’d be good.” Ging grinned, brushing past him and settling onto the couch after picking up the remote. Gon had gone to bed about forty minutes prior, so they’d have to keep the volume down, but that never really deterred Ging; it seemed like he was used to it. Kite followed him into the living room, sitting down on his end of the couch. After a few minutes of fussing with his Netflix, Ging was able to pull up the show and start the first episode before sitting back against the cushions and sighing contentedly. Kite smiled.

Ging had been edgy the days following his release from the hospital. At first, Kite had hypothesized that he was just tired; the hospital bed was, Ging had said, not particularly comfortable, and the doctors had said that fatigue could be a side effect of concussions. But it hadn’t really faded, even though he had slept for most of the day after he was released. Still, the effects of the concussion could linger for a while, Kite supposed. At least, that was what the doctor said. Kite glanced over at Ging. He certainly looked content as he was, a small smile pulling on his lips and his posture relaxed and comfortable. Kite relaxed himself, turning his attention back to the television.

They watched two episodes before Ging announced he was heading off to bed. It was still fairly early, but Kite wrote it off as another side effect of the concussion, wishing Ging a good night before picking up his book and walking into his room. Ging had insisted that Kite shower before him, like the ‘gentleman’ he was, so he was ready for bed, settling underneath the comforter and flipping through the novel, trying to figure out where he had stopped paying attention. He read for about twenty before he started to feel drowsy, eyes slipping closed before sleep claimed him. 

He woke up facing his nightstand. The clock there read ‘3:42.’ He blinked, rolling over and trying to figure out what had woken him up. Then he heard someone moving around beyond his room. He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed before walking over to the door, slowly easing it open and peering out into the dark living room. The lights were on in the kitchen. Ging was leaning heavily against the counter, shoulder trembling underneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. There was a broken glass laying on the tile behind him. Kite strode across the living room quickly.

“Ging? Are you okay?” he asked urgently, laying a hand on Ging’s shoulder when he arrived next to him. “Did you have another dizzy spell?” Ging waved him off, saying nothing but shaking off his hand. Kite lowered his hand, taking a step back.

“I…” Ging began before trailing off. “I’m fine. I just got a little dizzy. I’m… I’m fine, Kite. Go back to bed.” Kite shook his head wordlessly, and Ging looked almost annoyed, sighing exaggeratedly. “I’m fine. Just go back to bed,” he repeated.

“Let me help you clean this up; _you_ should get back to bed,” Kite said, walking over to the fridge and pulling out the broom that was stashed in the crevice between the appliance and the wall. “You still seem tired. You need to catch up on sleep while you can.”

“God,” Ging muttered darkly, swiping at his brow. “Please go back to bed, Kite. You shouldn’t be doing this; you should be sleeping, so please… just go back to bed. I can take care of it.”

“I want to help, Ging,” Kite retorted. “You were hurt; it’s okay to get help. I know you still get dizzy. When you get that way, I _want_ to help.” He started sweeping up the glass, but he still noticed Ging’s increasingly angry expression.

“Damnit, Kite, just go back to bed!” Ging said sharply, raising his voice. Kite froze, looking up at him and blinking. Ging looked angry. “I don’t need your help! I don’t need you to do this! I can do it! Just go to bed, Kite, and stop nosing around in my business!” Kite opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. Ging was breathing heavily and clutching the counter with white fingers.

“Ging…” Kite started slowly.

“Daddy?” They were interrupted by a small voice from across the living room. Gon had eased open the door of his bedroom, peering out cautiously. He had probably been woken up by the breaking glass, but Kite assumed he had heard the raised voices as well. He turned around to look at Ging, only to see that he had frozen in place, skin paled and hands shaking ever so slightly.

“Ging,” Kite said again, more confidently. “Why don’t you go help Gon get settled back into bed?” Ging looked over at him, unmoving and looking unsure of what to say. Gon was still standing in his doorway with wide, innocent eyes, clutching at the doorframe with one hand and his teddy bear with his other, wearing his favorite dinosaur pajamas.

“Maybe you should do it,” Ging said suddenly. “I can clean this up.”

“No. You go.”

“I… okay.” The father started slowly, walking across the living room and putting a hand on Gon’s shoulder, guiding him back into his room. Kite watched him go, before turning back to the broken glass, sweeping it up into the dustpan before disposing of the shards. Then he hurried back into his room, shutting the door behind him. He wasn’t particularly eager to talk to Ging again. Nothing had happened, really, but getting yelled at by Ging was strange. It felt wrong. He had been yelled at by plenty of people over the course of his life, but Ging had always felt different, for some reason. He had a difficult time falling back asleep.

He wasn’t angry; he wasn’t really hurt, maybe a little shaken, but not really _hurt_ by it. Most of all, he was worried. About an hour later, he heard his bedroom door open, but he pretended to be asleep and it closed again after just a few minutes. He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. It had been Ging, he knew that much. If it had been Gon, the falsified sleep definitely wouldn’t have worked. Ging probably wanted to apologize, to say that he was sorry he had yelled, that he hadn’t meant to raise his voice, that he didn’t mean to hurt Kite’s feelings. But none of that mattered.

Kite wasn’t upset, and his feelings were fine. He didn’t care about being yelled at, and he didn’t mind if Ging wanted to vent to him. What mattered was that Ging was obviously upset; he had been ever since they returned from the hospital, with only little glimpses through his usual, cheerful demeanor (façade). That was the only reason _Kite_ wasn’t fine. He wanted to help, he really did, but Ging continued to push him farther and farther away. Usually, it was masked by jokes and smiles, but he was still pushing him away. When he had raised his voice, it was the first time that Ging made his intentions very clear: he didn’t want Kite’s help, and he felt guilty about receiving it. And Kite didn’t know why.

 

x-x

 

He dozed off for a few hours before waking up to the sound of Ging making breakfast in the kitchen. He sat up, groping for the hair tie on his nightstand before pulling up his hair and wandering out into the living room. It was, in fact, Ging in the kitchen, pulling a pot out of one of the bottom cabinets and putting it on the stove. Kite joined him, mumbling a quiet ‘good morning’ and trying to blink away his sleepiness, the incidents of the night before still lingering heavily in his mind. All evidence of the broken glass was gone, save for the shards in the bottom of the trash bag, the broom peeking out from behind the fridge, and the heavy atmosphere. Ging looked over at him, offering a small, tense smile as he did.

“’Morning, Kite,” he said tersely. “Did you sleep well?”

“I slept fine,” Kite lied. He needed to disperse the tension. “Ugh. I tried rereading that book last night. You were right, the ending was kind of blah.” Ging visibly relaxed.

“I know, right, man?” he said, turning back to the pot and pouring in some water. It seemed like he was making oatmeal. “That ending was, like, weak. I told the guy at work who suggested it that, and he literally lectured me on why I was wrong for thirty minutes. I was like ‘dude, chill, I’m just trying to get some coffee here,’ but… he really didn’t care.” Kite laughed.

“He’s not the same guy who suggested that show, was he?” he asked. Ging shook his head. “Good. I don’t think I could take another disappointment. His taste is clearly terrible.”

“Yeah, me neither. Hey, you wanna watch some more of that? I don’t have to go back to work until Monday, so… I was thinking we could just chill around here today. I’m still beat.”

“That sounds good. You should rest while you can,” Kite agreed, and Ging hummed, adding in the oatmeal. It seemed like they had both determined not to mention the incident of the night before, and Ging was definitely relieved. After a short while, they were joined by Gon, who seemed a little tired at first but quickly perked up as he started eating his oatmeal and telling Kite all about what they had learned about plants at school. Before long, they were leaving to drop the child off at school for the day. Ging had wanted to drive, but Kite had adamantly insisted that he don’t; the discussion leered dangerously close to the incident with the cup and his dizziness spell, but they carefully toed around it, speaking very generally when it came to Ging’s condition. Kite also insisted on walking with him, and Ging let him do so with surprisingly little resistance.

It was a pleasant day outside, Kite supposed. The air was cool, and there was a light, gentle breeze pressing against their backs. In the past, he noted, it would have reminded him of winter’s quick approach, but he didn’t have long to dwell on it, Gon pulling on his hand, trying to get his attention, because he had apparently tried to ask him a question, and Kite frantically tried to decide what to answer with. He eventually settled on ‘I don’t know,’ which seemed to be an appropriate enough answer because Gon just started up again, explaining the lifecycle of caterpillars. Kite tried to pay attention, nodding along and humming. Ging was smiling at him.

They arrived at the school about fifteen minutes later, delivering Gon to his classroom without incident before walking back outside.

“Man, I love this weather,” Ging said cheerfully. “It’s so nice.”

“Eh, it’s fine.”

“You don’t need to play it cool; summer is the worst. It’s so hot it’s unbearable.” Ging chuckled to himself, stretching out his good arm. Then he stopped suddenly. Kite topped a few feet further down the sidewalk, turning to look at him curiously. “Hey, look at that…”

“Look at what?” Kite asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking over to stand next to him. He was looking down an alleyway.

“Don’t you remember? C’mon, it hasn’t been that long,” Ging deadpanned. At Kite’s confused look, he continued. “This is where we met.” He pointed down the alleyway, and Kite looked with furrowed eyebrows. He did remember. It was a little dead end, with a concrete floor and surrounded by brick walls. There was some unidentifiable liquid on the ground, and there were several overflowing dumpsters, trash laying on the concrete around them.

“Yeah… would you look at that…” Kite muttered. “I guess it is.”

“Man, that was freaky,” Ging said thoughtfully, smiling. “I just heard this guy yelling, and I like ‘holy shit, what’s going on over there?’ And then I went around the corner, and I saw that dude had a gun and he was yelling at you…” He trailed off, smile fading.

“Yeah, it kind’ve sucked.”

“Do you think he would have done it?” Ging asked quietly. “Like, do you think he would have actually shot you? He sounded so angry.” Kite just shrugged.

“I don’t know. He was pretty desperate for some reason, so he might’ve,” he said casually. “He was really convinced I was carrying some serious cash. I don’t know why.” Ging looked disturbed, shifting his cast-less arm.

“God, what the hell is wrong with that guy?” he said. “You’re just a kid, and that guy was at least forty; I don’t know who gets their kicks from going around bullying kids out of their money… that’s sick.” Kite didn’t respond, just staring down the alleyway.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said finally. “But it doesn’t really matter. Hey, did you notice if Killua was already there? I didn’t think I saw him, but I know Kurapika is usually super early.”

“Oh… um, I don’t know. I don’t think so.” They started down the sidewalk again, and the tension faded away as they chatted. After they reached the apartment, Ging settled onto the couch, turning on the news before suggesting that they watch a few more episodes of their show. Kite agreed, and a ‘few more’ turned into about five or six, and then it was almost time to go pick Gon up again. Ging stood up, stretching as he walked off towards the bathroom. When he returned, they pulled on their shoes and left the apartment, walking the path they had taken that morning.

“I wish I could drive,” Ging whined, and Kite looked unsympathetic. “Having to walk everywhere is the actual worst.” Kite rolled his eyes.

“You’ll survive, Ging.”

“Wait. Kite, man, I bet you don’t even know how to drive!” Ging exclaimed, mouth agape. “Bro… I have to teach you.”

“What?”

“To drive; I gotta teach you how to drive,” he retorted. “Knowing how to drive is super important. What if you have to? You probably wouldn’t even know where to start!” Kite sighed.

“Um, that’s very observant of you, I guess. And why would I ever need to know how to drive? I’ve never _had_ to drive before. This city isn’t _that_ big.”

“But what if you have to? I don’t know; I think it’s a good idea.”

“Fine. It’s your car.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That I might crash it,” Kite said, throwing him a wry smile. Ging rolled his eyes, chuckling. They had reached the school by that point, and the building was just growing busy with parent arriving to pick up their children. As Kite and Ging approached, they spotted a familiar blond walking up the front steps of the building. When they entered the foyer, Kurapika caught sight of them, turning and waving.

“Well, Ging, I’ve never known you to be early,” he said as they walked up the stairs towards Gon and Killua’s classroom. “I figured you’d be scraping in here at the very last moment. Well, I suppose Kite is with you, and he’s always been quite punctual when it comes to picking up Gon.” He smiled at Kite; Kurapika’s strange kindness still baffled him, but he tried to smile back.

“Man, are you still salty?” Ging asked, giving him an unappreciative look. “Look, it was just an accident. It’s not going to happen again.”

“I should hope so,” Kurapika retorted. “But I wasn’t trying to be unpleasant. I was just making a little joke. So, how have you been? I haven’t seen you the past couple of days, and I figured you wouldn’t appreciate any meddling texts.”

“Well, you were right there,” Ging said bitterly. “I’ve been doing fine. Don’t worry; Kite’s been keeping an eye of me. Like, a really observant eye. He’s been sitting on the bathroom floor when I _shower_ because he’s worried I’ll fall.” Kurapika looked approving.

“That’s good. Someone needs to keep an eye on you,” he agreed. “The doctor’s said you could get those dizzy spells for a few weeks, at the very least. It could go on for a month or so. I’m just glad you have someone to look after you, seeing as you were too stubborn to let me help you.” Ging glowered, expression darkening at the mention of ‘a month or so.’ Kite was reminded of the previous night, of Ging’s expression right before he had snapped at him.

“Yep, I’m sure you are,” Ging said curtly. They had just arrived at the classroom, and he leaned up against the wall adjacent the still-closed door. Kite stood next to him, glancing over at him curiously. Kurapika pulled out his phone, typing hurriedly before looking up at them critically.

“Nothing has happened, has it?” he asked. “You haven’t tripped or anything, I mean. I know you probably wouldn’t tell me, but… Ging, I only want to help you.” Kite looked at Ging, but Ging was looking at him. It only lasted for a moment; Ging rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, huffing as he did.

“No, _mom,_ ” he said sarcastically. “Everything is _fine._ Stop nosing around in my business.” He froze after he spoke the hauntingly familiar words, but it didn’t seem like Kurapika noticed, and after just a brief moment, Ging was rolling his eyes again and tapping his foot irritably. Kurapika just sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Fine. But you know you can call or text me any time you need anything, okay?” the blond said, sighing. They fell until an uncomfortable silence until the school bell rang. After they had retrieved their respective children, Kurapika bid them an unnaturally cheerful goodbye before walking off towards the parking lot. Ging just rolled his eyes again, muttering under his breath as Gon latched onto his hand, grinning brightly. The walk home seemed short.

“Hey, Kite,” Gon said brightly as Ging was unlocking the door. “Ms. Bisky gave us another addition sheet today. Do you want to help me do it? I don’t know if I’m that good at addition… but I’m going to try really hard!” Kite smiled.

“Yeah, of course I’ll help,” he said, before catching sight of Ging’s expression. The man looked sad, and he wasn’t sure why. Had something happened? It wasn’t unusual for Kite to help Gon with his worksheets; in fact, he’d go as far to say it was usual. But then again, Ging had been having hose sort of… mood swings ever since he was released from the hospital, and Kite was beginning to wonder if they had anything to do with what was happening around him at all. Maybe he just needed time. He was interrupted from his musings by Gon pulling him over to the kitchen table by his sleeve, yanking out one of the chairs, a clear indication that he should probably sit there. Then the child settled into the chair next to him, fishing around in his backpack for said worksheet. Ging went into his bedroom.

It only took Gon about twenty minutes (and minimal help) to finish the worksheet, and then he went to sit on the carpet of the living room and play with his blocks. Kite joined him in the living room, taking up residence on the couch with his book. Before long, Ging emerged from his room, looking considerably happier than he did before, settling on the couch next to Kite and turning on the television, changing the channel to the news. It was a familiar, comfortable scene, only disturbed by the presence of a cast. And the air was a little cold, but Kite assumed that was just him, because Gon and Ging both seemed perfectly content.

Well, the scene should have been familiar and comfortable; there was nothing outwardly different about it, except for the cast, but as time passed, Kite could feel it. It was like Ging had built up walls around himself, tall and looming and designed to keep out everyone surrounding him. They were sitting on the same couch, separated by just a few feet, but Kite felt like they had never been so far apart; it was like Ging was closing himself off, and again, Kite had no idea why, and in a way, it was very, very frightening. And that made Kite guilty. This wasn’t about him; it was Ging, and Ging was obviously troubled by something, but Kite needed Ging and no matter how many times he tried to convince himself that he was fine, he didn’t think he could risk losing Ging. He had to find out what was bothering the man.

Unfortunately, Kite didn’t quite realize the extent to which his fragile social skills were lacking. Throughout the evening, at every opportunity he saw to talk to Ging about the issue at hand, he just ended up mumbling something or stuttering and floundering until Ging felt the need to help him change the subject, and eventually, after another episode of the television show, Ging bid him goodnight and disappeared into his room, the door shutting tight behind him, impenetrable like the iron wall of a fortress. Kite sat alone on the couch for a few minutes, blinking and wondering when, exactly, he had become so bad at starting conversations. He had never really had to start conversations with Ging before; Ging had always started them himself, or they just happened sort of naturally. (There was nothing natural about any of his attempts…) Eventually, he decided to go to bed himself. They would have time to talk in the morning, he supposed.

After a quick shower, he tried to go to sleep, and in the end, he fell into blissful sleep. It wasn’t long, however, until he was woken up by someone hissing his name from the doorway. He blinked away the sleep, sitting up when he noticed light from the living room falling in a pale sliver across his bed, glancing over to the doorway. It was Ging, looking awkward.

“Ging?”

“Hey. Um. Can I come in?” he asked, rubbing at the back of his head with his free hand. “I… I wanted to talk about something.”

“Yeah… sure,” Kite replied, glancing over at the clock on his bedside table. It read ‘2:23.’ Ging had walked into the room, sitting down cross-legged uneasily at the foot of the bed, and clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Is… everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess,” Ging said. “So… you were kind of trying to talk to me all evening, and I wasn’t being very receptive to it, but… well, I don’t want to not talk, and I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d come and see if you were sleeping, but then you were, but I thought maybe you might still want to talk? But you know, this is stupid, so I think I’ll just go sleep, and then we can talk in the morning.” Kite shook his head quickly.

“No, that’s okay. We can talk.” They fell into a painful silence, staring at each other wordlessly. After a few moments, Kite continued. “So, yeah, I just thought you seemed kind of… sad? I was wondering if there was anything I was doing… or anything I could do?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Ging said quickly. “Really. I’m fine.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay… I was… So. Is this about… last night, when I yelled at you?” Ging asked gingerly. It was Kite who shook his head quickly then.

“It’s okay! You’re just stressed right now. You don’t need to feel bad about that or anything. I know you weren’t… really mad, or if you were, that’s okay too. I’m sure I can be a little overbearing, but I really do just want to help,” he said. Ging shifted around on the bed, not speaking or looking at him, so Kite went on. “I’m sure in a few weeks, you’ll be feeling just like you did before you fell.” Suddenly, Ging looked up, and his eyes seemed a little watery and he looked desperate.

“No, Kite! That’s the problem!” he said frantically. “I just don’t… I just don’t feel like myself anymore! I don’t know why I keep acting the way I’m acting and I… last night, I don’t know why I yelled at you. I never wanted to do that, because you didn’t do anything wrong… and Gon heard… and that’s not the person I want my son to think I am.”

“It’s okay, Ging. Gon knows that isn’t who you are, and you’re just stressed right now. It’ll get better,” Kite said softly, reaching out a hand and putting it on Ging’s shoulder. “You just need to rest.” Ging shook his head fervently, and Kite furrowed his brow.

“No… I… well, I just don’t know who I am anymore,” Ging muttered. “And I _yelled_ at you. I can’t believe I yelled at _you_ ; you didn’t deserve that. You really were just trying to help, because I can’t take care of myself because I’m too _stupid_ and then, what did I do? I snapped at you, and Gon heard, and now he…, and I didn’t mean for _any_ of this to happen, Kite!” Kite felt lost; he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to tell Ging it was okay; he hadn’t really taken Ging’s angriness the previous night to heart. He knew Ging didn’t mean to even raise his voice, but he was slowly realizing that Ging’s current condition perhaps didn’t relate to that at all, and Kite didn’t know how to help. “I just can’t believe this is happening again…” Ging muttered.

“I…” Kite started, but then he paused. What could he say? Everything he knew was based on Kurapika’s self-righteous mutterings. He didn’t know what to say to ease Ging’s guilt, Ging’s worries, so he did the only thing he could think of, sitting up on his knees and pulling Ging into a tight hug, resting his chin in the crook of his neck and patting him on the back awkwardly. “It’s going to be alright, Ging.” He felt Ging start to shake, and then he heard a strangled sob, and it was obvious Ging was crying. His arms snaked around Kite’s torso, pulling him closer. Kite settled his hands on his back, blinking back his own tears (which would be completely unhelpful) and shushing him comfortingly. The scene was eerily familiar.

“I- I just- I just never wanted this to happen!” Ging stuttered. “None of this was ever meant to happen! I- I want to be a better person, Kite, but now I’m just doing it all again, and I don’t know who I am anymore! What am I supposed to do? I’m doing it all again…” He trailed off, his words overtaken by shaky sobs. Kite starting rubbing small circles into his back. 

“I don’t care what you did back then,” he muttered gently. “You made one mistake. You didn’t mean for this to happen. Don’t let it define who you are now. I… well, I think you’re a good person now, if it counts for anything, and I don’t care about back then and no one else does either. We all love you… Gon, me, even Kurapika and Leorio, I think. We want you to get through this. And if you… if you don’t want to be the way you were before, all you can focus on is what you do now. And I… think you can do the right thing, Ging.” Ging didn’t respond, but he didn’t pull away and he didn’t leave, and neither did Kite. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope everyone in the US had a great Thanksgiving and safe travels. Please leave your comments below, and thanks again to my beta Abby! =)


	9. Rainy Day Worries

After a few awkward moments of silence, Ging pulled away, scrubbing away the tears on his cheeks and smiling at Kite tensely. Then he had thanked him and told him to sleep well and left, shutting the door behind him. Kite remained sitting after he had gone; had it helped? He got the eerie feeling that it hadn’t. Part of him wanted to go check on Ging. The man was obviously distressed (that much was clear,) and hugging it out didn’t seem to do much in the way of soothing his frayed nerves. The other part maintained that going to check on Ging would be overstepping his boundaries.

For the entirety of his stay at the apartment, Kite could never remember going in Ging’s bedroom. He had seen it, obviously, through the door. Ging never really closed his door, unless he was sleeping or changing, (it felt like he was closing it more and more…) but Kite had never truly stepped past the threshold and been _inside_ Ging’s room. It was a sort of forbidden ground, and when Ging retreated within the unknown depths, Kite couldn’t follow him. So, instead, he tried to lay back down and go back to sleep, and after about an hour of staring up at the spotless white ceiling with an uneasy feeling brewing in his stomach, he managed to drift off.

The next morning, Kite woke up approximately thirty minutes before Gon was due at school to a completely silent apartment, sitting up a little too quickly, which made his head throb. He stood after letting the pounding fade away, rubbing at the back of his head as he wandered out into the living room. It was completely undisturbed, left exactly as it had been the night before. Instead of trying to figure out exactly what had happened, he walked over to Gon’s room and woke the child up before going back to the kitchen and trying to figure out something for Gon to eat, silently praying that the noise from the kitchen would wake Ging up, and he would emerge on his own.

Fortunately, Gon was a little more adventurous, slamming the door to Ging’s room open unabashedly and marching inside while Kite was making toast for him in the kitchen, and Kite could hear him waking up Ging with a series of shouts. A few minutes later, they both came out. Ging was looking a little worse for wear, to put it politely. His eyes were red-rimmed and his nose shared the hue, and, all and all, he looked exhausted. Kite smiled at him pityingly as he sat a plate down in front of Gon at the kitchen table.

“Kite, man, thanks,” Ging said weakly. His voice was nasally. “I totally slept through my alarm… God. I’m an idiot.” He chuckled halfheartedly as Kite handed him a plate with toast on it as well, before sitting down with his own.

“It’s fine,” he said. “We have plenty of time.” Ging hummed his agreement, taking a bite of toast. After the hurried breakfast, and frantically making sure Gon had everything he needed, the trio ventured out into the cold, autumn morning. The day was overcast, the sun nothing but a dull, yellow stain on the endless grey mass overhead. Luckily, the heavens managed to hold back their load until the trio reached the school building and Gon was safely deposited at his classroom with a few minutes to spare. Unluckily, as Kite and Ging walked back to the apartment, a light, biting rain beat against their fronts, soaking through the fabric of their clothes with ease. The rain made Kite introspective.

It wasn’t difficult to remember a year ago, but it seemed like a much longer time had passed. The last autumn had been unusually rainy and cold, and when winter came around, it was just as terrible. It had been the snowiest, coldest winter he could recall. It was dreadful, and when the spring finally rolled around, he could hardly believe he had made it through as he unthawed with the rest of the world. It had been a long time before he could forget the feeling of being constantly cold. He shivered as the rain bit against his face, the familiar feeling of coldness seeping back into his bones.

He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets, staring down at the concrete as they walked, and then he glanced over at Ging. The man was looking introspective as well, cast tucked into his jacket to hide it from the rain. He was looking down at the concrete, eyes still looking irritated and breathing still congested, and Kite pushed his thoughts away; he needed to focus on Ging, on trying to find out what was still plagued his mind. It wasn’t long before they reached the apartment, taking the elevator up to the fifth floor before spilling into the foyer and stripping off their damp jackets.

“Damn, I’ll have to remember to grab some umbrellas or raincoats or something later,” Ging grumbled as he walked off towards his room. “I’m going to change and then I think I’ll- I think I’ll lay down for a little while. Not feeling too hot right now. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Okay. I hope you feel better,” Kite said weakly as the door shut with a resounding noise, echoing through the silent apartment. He retreated to his own room, changing clothes before pulling his desk chair over to his window and sitting down, staring out at the rainy world behind the glass. The rain had gotten heavier since they had made it inside, beating against the panes relentlessly and distorting his view of the city. The droplets reflected the reds and yellows of the car lights and streetlamps, making them spread like stains in the little bubbles of water, but for the most part, everything was grey, like the winter snow and sky. Kite closed his eyes, mind drifting.

It was difficult to believe that it had only been a little over a month since Ging had rescued him. Just a little over a month ago, had he really thought that death would be a welcome relief? There was no point in denying it; he had. When that man loomed over him with that gun, ready to fire, he had just closed his eyes and waited patiently. How had he gotten so low? He sighed, opening his eyes again and looking down at the street below. He couldn’t even remember how many times he had traversed that lonely stretch before he had given up in a dingy little alleyway just a few blocks away. He had given up, but then he had heard Ging’s voice, and he had opened his eyes and realized, realized that, just maybe, death wasn’t his only option. 

Maybe it would have been for the better if he had never opened his eyes. After all, what had caused Ging’s sudden break in sobriety? As far as he could tell, there had only been one real change in the man’s life, and that was _him._ Was he an enabler? Ging could leave Gon with him, just like Kurapika had said that day in the car. Or maybe he was just another worry on a long list that finally pushed Ging over the edge, forced him back to the bottle. Either way, perhaps it would have been better if he had never opened his eyes, just accepted the supposedly cold embrace of death like he had planned. At the time, it had seemed much warmer than life. He pulled his knees tighter to his chest.

It must have been him that was pushing the little family apart. He could tell that Gon had noticed the change; he seemed to walk on eggshells around his father. He was just as open and sweet and energetic as always, but Kite noticed the way he watched Ging, the way his eyes followed him just a little too closely. And Ging. It felt like Ging was still pushing both of them away, hiding away in his room or behind facades and lies, and his mood swings only seemed to be getting worse and worse. His mind flashed back to the night before. Even then, he couldn’t help but feel like he made the wrong decision. It had to be the wrong decision; otherwise, things would be better, different. The next morning, it was like the night before had never even happened, and Ging still seemed just a little too okay, just a little too fine, hiding something deeper and darker behind forced smiles and jokes. If Kite had just died that day at the beginning of fall…

He slapped himself mentally. (What the hell was he thinking?) Was it really so easy to fall back into old habits? No! He had a reason to care about living now, didn’t he? His reason was Ging and Gon, and dying would be equivalent to abandoning them. He couldn’t abandon them. He stood up from his chair abruptly. Ging had always been so open with him, and the man had always noticed when he was distressed. It was time to repay the favor; he couldn’t just let Ging wallow in his grief anymore. He could talk to him and sort out the issue once and for all, and after that, he could maybe, just maybe start fixing whatever problems he had caused.

He quietly walked out into the living room, approaching Ging’s closed bedroom door, reaching out his fisted hand to knock, but then he froze, breath leaving his lungs. He had never been inside Ging’s room before; he had never even knocked on the door before, and he couldn’t force his hand to carry out the task. How could a room possibly make him so nervous? He was pathetic; that was it. He made a hasty retreat to his room, shamefully closing his door as quietly as possible behind him. Then he stood just beyond it, breathing heavily and staring down at the carpet with flushed cheeks, defeated and humiliated. He fought a _door_ , and, apparently, the door had won.

He had never experienced that before, that feeling of panic clouding his mind as he was faced with something so simple, so _easy._ It truly was pathetic, and, in his mind, he felt like a failure, because in the end, wasn’t that what he was? He had failed Ging, and he had failed Gon, and maybe he had failed the two of them more times than he could even remember. Right now, Ging _needed_ him. He needed Kite to be there for him, like he had always been there for Kite. But even when Kite had rallied all of his courage, he still couldn’t do it, and he had just left Ging all alone with his thoughts and the rain.

He remembered what Ging had said, about not feeling like himself and not understanding who he was anymore. Kite knew who he was; he was Ging, and Ging was the best person he knew. He had saved Kite from himself more times than he cared to remember, all starting on that day back at the end of summer. After that, he had _always_ been there for Kite. After the disastrous dinner at Kurapika’s, he had held Kite while Kite cried and Ging assured him that no matter what, he was there and he had Kite’s back. It was the first time anyone had ever said that to him, and he was too pathetic to even repay that kindness when Ging needed it the most.

He hid in his room for the rest of the day until he heard Ging calling him from the living room around thirty minutes before school released. When he emerged, he found Ging looking even worse than he had that morning. His eyes and nose were even redder, like he had cried again, and his voice was still nasally and distorted, but most of all, he looked defeated and tired. Kite’s heart squirmed uncomfortably in his chest, and he asked if Ging was alright. The man just waved him off, walking over to the foyer and digging out some old raincoats and tossing one to Kite before pulling on the other. After they were all suited up, they took off into the damp world. They walked in silence.

At the school, Kurapika was already waiting in the hallway, texting someone on his phone. As Kite and Ging approached, he looked up, greeting them cheerfully and trying to strike up conversation. Ging wasn’t particularly receptive, striking down his attempts with one or two word answers. Kurapika kept throwing concerned and confused glances at Kite, but Kite refused to meet his eyes, staring down at his shoes silently. Eventually, the blond gave up, looking back down at his phone with a disapproving expression, and he stayed that way until he bid them good day, walking down the hall as Killua waved goodbye. Gon was oddly silent as Ging handed him his raincoat, latching onto Kite’s hand and looking up at Ging with a furrowed brow after he had put it on. Ging didn’t seem to notice his son’s hesitancy. The walk back to the apartment was also spent in silence.

When they reached the apartment, Ging walked back into his room with some vague excuse, saying he’d be back a little later to help with dinner. After he was gone, Gon turned to Kite, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“She gave us another worksheet,” he said quietly. “Do you wanna help me?”

“Of course,” Kite replied hurriedly. He didn’t know what to do; what was Ging doing? It was obviously affecting Gon now. Before, Gon’s hesitance had been barely noticeably, but Ging’s downcast attitude was clearly bothering Gon. Even the most socially inept person (like Kite) would notice it. “Let’s work on it at the kitchen table. What did you do at school today?” he tried.

“We were learning about dinos today,” the child said vaguely. “It was fun, but Killua said it was boring…” Kite cleared his throat, sitting down at the table and waiting as Gon fished around in his backpack slowly. It was almost painful to watch; Gon never did anything slowly.

“Oh, yeah?” He tried to engage him again. “What did you learn about them?”

“Just ‘bout different kinds and stuff.”

“That’s cool.”

“It was pretty fun…” Gon trailed off, and stayed silent for a few minutes, staring down at the worksheet he had withdrew from the backpack and placed on the table. “Hey, Kite, is Daddy mad at me again?” he asked suddenly, looking over at Kite with watery eyes. “I… I don’ wanna go live Aunt Mito again… I wanna keep living here with you and Daddy!” Kite blinked. Go live with Aunt Mito?

“Of course not!” he said adamantly. “’Your dad… isn’t mad at you at all. He’s just a little upset right now because he got hurt. He isn’t angry with you… and of course you can stay here. No one is going to make you live with your aunt.”

“But… last time I had to stay with Aunt Mito, Daddy was angry too, and he kept yelling like he did at you. But I don’t want to live with Aunt Mito again,” Gon said slowly. “I heard him yelling, and I didn’t mean to, but he used to yell a lot, and then he got hurt and then I had to go live with Aunt Mito for a long, long time, and it was at Christmas too. I don’t wanna go live with Aunt Mito! Was he mad at you?” Kite shook his head.

“No, he wasn’t mad at me either,” he said. “It’s okay. I promise you won’t have to live with your aunt. Your dad is just kind of stressed right now. I promise everything is okay.” Gon just nodded, chewing on his lip and looking down at his worksheet, scribbling at it with a concentrated expression. Kite watched him with a furrowed brow. Had Gon lived with his aunt in the past? Kite couldn’t remember Ging ever mentioning that, but it sounded like it had been due to… unfortunate circumstances. He curled his fingers, staring down at the kitchen tiles. What did Ging think he was doing right now?

Kite had been worried. Ging was obviously suffering, whether it was a side-effect from his concussion or due to his own regrets was irrelevant. But Kite hadn’t understood before. He had assumed Ging struggled with alcohol, but he had sorted out his issues before it went too far. Now he was beginning to understand the extent of Ging’s problem, and the effects it was having on his family. He furrowed his eyebrows. He couldn’t let this go on, but how could he fix it?

 

x-x

 

After Gon finished his worksheet, he skipped off into his bedroom to play with his blocks (and not climb out the window, Kite prayed.) Kite took the privacy as an opportunity to steel his nerves and walk over to Ging’s door, breathing in deeply before raising his fist and knocking before he could turn back. Ging appeared a few moments later, looking quizzical but smiling.

“What’s up, Kite?” he asked, and for a moment, he almost seemed like his old self. But Kite saw through it. He was tired; strain was pulling at his features, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His hair was in even more disarray than normal, not its usual organized chaos. Kite cleared his throat.

“I want to talk,” he said simply. “About what happened.” Ging nodded, like Kite should go on, like it was a conversation that could happen in a doorway. Kite shook his head. “We should go somewhere Gon won’t hear. And I think we need to talk… for a while.”

“Oh.” Ging’s smile faded, and he pulled the door open wider for Kite to walk in. Kite set his jaw and crossed over the threshold. Ging had walked over to his unmade bed, sitting down on the edge after pulling out a desk chair for Kite to sit. Kite looked around discreetly as he walked over to the chair. It was a little bigger than the other bedrooms, perhaps, with plain beige walls and dark furniture. It wasn’t particularly clean or messy; there was a bookshelf in one corner, littered with knickknacks and the desk was cluttered and the bed unmade, but the floor was clean. It was very Ging, Kite noted. “So, what’s up?” the man asked as he sat down. “I mean, are you okay and stuff?”

“I’m fine,” Kite said simply. “But you’re not.”

“What?”

“Look, Ging. I _want_ to help because I can tell your having a hard time right now… and you’re _so_ much better than this,” he went on, tensing as he struggled to find the right words to say, averting his eyes down to the carpet with a furrowed brow. “You can move past this.” Ging just looked confused.

“Yeah, man, we talked about this last night,” he said. “I feel a lot better already. I’m… doing so much better, and I don’t get as many dizzy spells and everything is fine, right? Are _you_ okay? You’re acting kind of… weird.” Kite shook his head adamantly, a wave of anger rolling over him. Why wouldn’t Ging talk to him? With exception of brief windows of vulnerability like the night before, it was like Ging was trying to hide everything from _himself_ , brushing everything off by saying how much ‘better’ he was or how much ‘better’ he felt. And it made Kite furious.

“Ging!” he exclaimed, and Ging seemed surprised by his outburst. “It not that you ‘can’ move past it; it’s that you _need_ to move past it! And you aren’t! You aren’t moving past anything. You’re still depressed; you’re still guilty, or whatever the hell is wrong with you, and you’re still hurting _Gon_! Before, it was fine. I thought you just needed time, and I thought I could deal with having you be a little depressed and sulky, but it’s not about _me_ anymore; it’s about your _son_!”

“Kite…”

“Look, I’m not trying to yell at you. I’m not trying to make you feel worse. But you need to know how much this is hurting Gon. Is… is it me? You weren’t having problems before I got here. I’ll leave! Just… tell me what I can do to make this better…” he trailed off, the fire that had driven out his earlier words gone. He sighed. “Please, Ging. Tell me how to fix this.” Ging just blinked.

“Kite, no. It’s not you. It’s me, and I really am better, I promise,” he said quickly. “Talking last night helped a lot. And… Gon is fine too. I’m sure this is stressful for him too. Having to stay with _Kurapika_ will make anyone stressed. In a few days, everything will be back to normal.” It was an obvious attempt to lighten the mood, to change the topic, but Kite wasn’t having it.

“It _won’t_ , Ging,” he replied, voice low. He refused to look at Ging, looking anywhere but at the man. It hurt, for some odd reason, to look at him. “I kept telling you that before, but I was really just trying to convince myself, I think… I… when I was helping Gon with his homework, he told me he didn’t want to go live with his Aunt Mito again,” Ging breath caught in his throat. “Because he heard you yelling the other night, and he thought you were angry at me… or him. He said you used to yell a lot, and then he had to go live with his aunt. I don’t really know what happened, but it _can’t_ happen again.” Ging was silent and pale, and they sat in silence for a few minutes.

“I’m so sorry, Kite,” Ging said finally. “I never should have tried to save you…” Kite felt like his heart stopped beating all at once, and he looked up at Ging with wide eyes and shaky hands. Did Ging… want him to die? (He said he would have cared! He said he was glad, that he wasn’t lonely anymore! Wasn’t alone anymore…) There were tears streaming down Ging’s face, and he had a quivering hand drawn up to his face. “I’m already hurting Gon… I don’t want to hurt you too! I… I wasn’t strong enough to save you! I just… I brought you here and I can’t even help you because of my own damn problems! I should have let someone else do it… someone who could have been good enough… because I’m not! I… I’m just failing again! What the hell am I doing? You deserve so much better than this!”

“Nobody else cared…” Kite said softly, trying to reach out a hand but it just hovered awkwardly and he wasn’t sure what to do. “Nobody cared but you… you were the only one who actually stopped… and you were to only one who helped me. I… I don’t deserve that. I left the orphanage all on my own; no one made me. It’s my own fault that I was homeless in the first place… and… you are good enough. You’re more than good enough. You’re the best person I know… and you and Gon are my family. I didn’t have anyone, but now I have you, and that… that means you have me too, so let me help you…” He paused, watching Ging’s reaction. For the briefest of moments, the walls had been gone, but they had returned just as quickly. Ging was offering him a sweet (almost pitying) smile.

“Thanks,” he said, just like before (just like always), and Kite felt anger wash over him again, but this time, it wasn’t so easily abated. All at once, he realized what Ging had done, what Ging had always done. He was trying to evade him, turn the conversation around to be about _Kite,_ to focus on _Kite’s_ problems and not his own. Kite clenched his fists.

“Don’t give me any bullshit, Ging,” he said. “You always try to pull me into this sentimental crap, but this time, I know better, and I’m not going to let you push this away anymore! Tell me what’s going on. If you really think I deserve better, then give it to me! Stop feeling bad about everything, and start _fixing_ it! If you tell me, I’ll help, but I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong, what’s _really_ wrong.”

“Kite… I don’t want you to have to do this. You’re just a ki-”

“No! Tell me why Gon had to go live with his aunt. What happened?”

“I started drinking.”

“Why?”

“It was few years after his mom died, when he was like four or so.”

“And you used to yell at him? You were angry at _him_?”

“No…”

“Then why did he say that?”

“I… I used to yell on my phone and stuff… I guess. I never hurt him, I promise!” Ging exclaimed defensively, stiffening suddenly. “I swear I never hurt that kid.”

“I know...”

“It’s just after she was gone, I felt so alone,” Ging continued unprompted, anguish painting his features as he looked at Kite desperately. “I _was_ so alone. It was like there was nothing left for me. I loved her so much, Kite; I didn’t know what to do. I used to drink a little, before that, but not a lot, but it… it made it better, I guess, and then things just spiraled out of control. I knew Kurapika; we weren’t really friends, but he started to notice something was happening. He… he tried to help, and I wanted him to, but then… Mito got involved, you know, ‘cause I used to call her, and she said she would take the kid for a few months while I tried to sort out my shit. And I tried so hard… but Gon was gone for a whole year… I missed a whole year of his life, and I told myself I’d never do it again, but then I did...”

“No you didn’t.”

“What?”

“You didn’t do anything again! You made a mistake. And everything could be fine, but the way you’re acting right now, it could happen again. Because it wasn’t the alcohol’s fault, Ging,” Kite retorted. “You’re pushing everyone away. Gon thinks you’re angry at him; he thinks he’s going to have to go live with his aunt because you’re _mad at him._ This isn’t happening because you’re drunk; it’s happening because you’re pushing him away!”

“But…”

“And you’re pushing me away too! Hell, just earlier, I was thinking about how maybe it would be have been better if I had _died_ , because then, maybe, none of this would have happened. I don’t want to die! I _like_ living, and I _like_ living here with you and Gon, but I started to think maybe it was my fault that all this was happening. Is it?”

“No! Of course not!” Ging said hurriedly. “How could you think that? You’re so important to both of us! If you had died…” He trailed off, looking down at the ground introspectively. “You can’t.”

“Okay! Good,” Kite said, finally reaching out his hand and putting it on Ging’s shoulder. “So let’s move past this together. You need make sure Gon knows you’re not mad. He misses you, and he’s afraid. You’ve always had my back…The point is: I’ve got your back, Ging. Go make it right, because you still can.”

“But… what if Gon doesn’t forgive me? He… he remembers going to live with Mito… and it was basically child neglect, wasn’t it? I’m a terrible father. I’m irresponsible. I’m always late. I’m no good at manners and stuff. I’m not a good role-model. I mean, you’ve got awesome guys like Leorio who’re dads, who’re doctors and super tall and pretty darn awesome all around,” Ging said dejectedly. “And then you’ve got me. I’m messy, and I cuss, and I’m just some backward bureaucrat deep down, and then to top it all off, I’m a loose-tongued drunk.”

“Well, I was homeless, and I’ve pickpocketed a few people, and I always say stupid, sarcastic stuff to wrong people, and I think I scare old women and small children sometimes,” Kite said dryly. “So I guess we’re even. But if it counts for anything, I like you, and I think you’re a pretty good dad. I mean, you love him, and you only want the best for him. I never knew my dad, but… I don’t think I’d be mad if he was like you.”

“I think we’re both losers.”

“Basically. And neither of us can cook, so we’re screwed.”

“Well, shit,” Ging said, smirking at him, and for the first time in a few days it seemed genuine. “Ugh. Speaking of eating, what the heck are we eating for dinner? I don’t even know what’s out there.”

“I don’t know either,” Kite admitted. “We’ve been eating that nasty casserole I made for a few days now, but it’s gone. But… food is an adventure, right? Let’s go see what we can make. I think… our cooking skills are cumulative. I can make oatmeal, and you can make soup and grilled cheeses, so when we work together we can make something… halfway decent.”

‘Let’s get the kid involved,” Ging suggested with wry grin. “I don’t know what he can do, but if it really does add up, any little bit helps. He can frost cookies or something, I’m pretty sure. And that counts as cooking, right?” Kite returned his playful smile, pushing himself up out of the chair and walking towards the door of the bedroom. Ging followed after him, clapping him on the back.

“You go get Gon; I’ll go scout out the terrain,” Kite said, and they parted ways in the living room. As it happened, there wasn’t much of anything in the pantry or the fridge that was acceptable for dinner, except for some chicken broth, noodles, some canned vegetables, and a few (surprisingly fresh) zucchinis hidden in the back of the fridge’s vegetable drawer. They decided to make soup. Gon (mood much improved) was the official stirrer, and Kite was the only one two-handed adult present, so he was stuck with the prep and cutting. Ging, the one-handed adult, was left to maneuver the admittedly complicated can opening machine he had bought on clearance. (They had a manual can opener? There was nothing wrong with it… Kite decided not to question his motives.)

“Man, we still need to go to the grocery, but I love freaking soup,” Ging said brightly as he watched Gon stir the large pot, standing on one of the kitchen chairs to get a better angle on it. Kite hummed his agreement, throwing away the empty cans.

“Soup is fall food or something, right?” he asked absently. “That’s what you said, anyway.”

“I was right,” Ging retorted. “It is fall food. The best fall food, might I add.”

“I’ll be sure to tell all my friends,” Kite said, rolling his eyes sarcastically.

“I’m sure all the old ladies at the school already know, Kite,” Ging joshed, shoving at his arm teasingly. Kite laughed, rolling his eyes again.  

It was still raining outside; rain was pattering against the roof, and dark ominous clouds were barring out the sunset, but the kitchen was warm and bright and comfortable, and Kite almost forgot about the bitter rain pounding against the window. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I really appreciate your comments, so please leave them below. Thanks again to my beta Abby (@twelfthpaldi).


	10. Familiar, Unwelcome Faces and Bake Sales

After dinner, Ging went to get Gon ready for bed, and Kite volunteered to store the leftover soup and wash the pot. As he scrubbed at the starch collecting at the waterline, he let his mind drift off to the sound of the rain and the running water. He didn’t notice when Ging returned, having successfully coerced Gon into a bath, walking into the kitchen to lean up against the counter and watch Kite as he finished washing the pot. It took Kite a few moments to realize someone was standing behind him, startling when he turned to put away the pot.

“God, don’t scare me like that, Ging,” he said, squatting down to move around the other pots crowding the cabinet. “You get Gon started on his bath?” Ging hummed, turning to walk into the living room once he saw that the work in the kitchen was done. He plopped down on the couch, stretching out his good arm along the back and laying his head against the cushions.

“Sure did,” he said after he got settled. “Thanks for taking care of that.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Kite replied, following him into the living room and settling onto his end of the couch. “We got most of it done while the soup was cooking. Are you… feeling better now?”

“I am… for real, now,” Ging said earnestly. “Sorry for being a jerk or whatever.”

“It’s fine… I guess.” Kite grinned, pulling his legs up underneath himself. “You’re always kind of jerk, if it counts for anything.”

“Well, I appreciate you getting real with me,” Ging said. “I think I needed it. I guess I was just so worried about messing up that I was messing up ‘cause I was so worried about it. If that makes sense. I mean… just because I… got drunk again doesn’t mean I’m, like, reverting or something, right?”

“Yeah,” Kite answered. “I really don’t think you’re going to get wasted again. But maybe you should still stay away from stairs.”

“Actually, I kind’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” Ging said cautiously, chuckling slightly after his admission. Kite furrowed his brow, looking over at him curiously. “So yeah, when I fell down those stairs, I didn’t really remember much at first, but I did a few days again. I was trying to go downstairs because I thought I saw that guy.”

“What guy?”

“The guy with the gun…” Ging trailed off. “I don’t know if it was actually him; when I got drunk, I got really mad that the world is always so unfair. I think I wanted to see him, but it kind of made me think a little. That guy’s still out there somewhere.”

“Of course he is. Where would he have gone?” Kite asked dryly. “He lives here.”

“Well, yeah, but, like… we could _see_ him,” Ging said urgently, eyes wide. “And what if Gon is there or something, and he gets angry again? He could still hurt you.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Kite said unconcernedly. “You can go a long time in this city without seeing someone you know. There’s a bunch of people that live here. What’s the likelihood we’d see that one, specific guy?” He spoke casually, trying to convince Ging that his worries were unwarranted. But were they? It wasn’t really that unrealistic, and that guy wasn’t even the worst. Kite’s mind quickly reminded him of all the people he’d hate to see much more than the thief from the alleyway. All the people who could do a lot worse than threaten and harass. He shook himself out of his thoughts. It was stupid to dwell on those sort of things, he told himself. What he said was true. There were thousands of people living around them; what was the likelihood he’d see one of them in particular that he really didn’t want to see? Ging looked skeptical, but he shrugged, picking up the remote from the coffee table.

“Sure,” he said. “If you say so. You wanna watch anything? Gon’ll probably be done in a little bit, so we shouldn’t get too involved.”

“I’m good with whatever.”

“Aw, look at that. You remember when we watched this one?” Ging asked, flipping the television over to one of the movie channel. It was that sappy romantic movie they had watched on Netflix. Kite snorted.

“How could I forget?” he asked. “It’s terrible.”

“C’mon, man. It’s not that bad,” Ging argued, “I mean, I don’t think it’s good, but someone might. And it’s not the worst movie ever. It’s just… mediocre.”

“You like it,” Kite teased. “You think it’s _cute_.”

“I don’t think it’s cute! That’s- that’s stupid,” Ging retorted weakly, and it was barely noticeable, but his face was pink. “I don’t know why that chick would ditch her family for that dude. It’s not- it’s not even romantic! It’s…. I mean, it’s weird.”

“Okay, Ging.”

“Don’t pick on me!”

“Okay, Ging.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible.” Ging huffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, a look of fake-annoyance painting his features. Kite grinned to himself; Ging did a terrible job of pretending to be annoyed. After a few more minutes, Gon joined them, sitting down in-between them on the couch, a bright smile playing at his lips. Ging changed the channel over to something more child-oriented, some animated movie Kite remembered watching with the younger kids at the orphanage once. Gon seemed to recognize it, at the very least. Around eight, Ging hurried his son off to bed, grinning at Kite over his shoulder as Gon protested sleepily. After Gon was all settled in and dozing off, he returned, sitting down heavily and picking back up the remote.

“So, you wanna watch another episode of that show?” he asked, and Kite nodded. Ging flipped the television over to the DVD player, opening up the Netflix app and browsing around their queue. “There it is,” he said exasperatedly as he started up the next episode before sinking back against the couch. They watched two episodes in a comfortable silence, and when the second ended, Kite glanced over at Ging to gauge whether or not the man seemed to want to watch another. Ging was asleep. He had his head laying against the back cushions of the couch, angled towards the ceiling, mouth slightly ajar. Kite smiled softly, chuckling to himself. He reached over, shaking Ging’s shoulder gently to rouse him out of sleep. He woke with a start, blinking owlishly, and looking around in confusion.

“You doing okay?” Kite asked patronizingly.

“Huh?” Ging questioned intelligently, looking at him with furrowed brows.

“You fell asleep,” Kite explained. “You should go sleep in a real bed.” Ging grumbled under his breath, rubbing at his eyes with his good hand before stretching without standing up.

“You’re probably right,” he mumbled. “S’not good to sleep on the couch.”

“Yep.”

“Okay… well, I’m going to get to bed.” Kite hummed his agreement, standing. Ging stood up as well, flexing his cast-less arm and trying to shake out the sleep.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Kite said amicably, smiling at Ging as he went to leave. He was stopped when Ging spoke, turning to look at him curiously.

“Hey, Kite,” Ging had said, smiling softly. “Thanks for making me… I don’t know, get back on track or whatever. I really, like, appreciate it, you know? I don’t ever want to lose Gon again. And I don’t want to lose you either, okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m glad you’re better,” Kite replied, and then Ging stepped in, pulling him into a tight, one-armed embrace. Kite hugged him back. “You shouldn’t let what you did define who you are now. I really think you’re a good person.” Ging hummed.

“That means a lot,” he said, but he didn’t pull away. Kite didn’t _dislike_ it; it was warm and comfortable and safe, and somehow, it managed not to be weird, even though it lasted a few moments too long, but Ging was pulling on his hair just a little and it sort of hurt. He knew it wasn’t really the right time to mention it.

“You’re… you’re pulling my hair,” he said anyway, shifting around awkwardly. “Just… move your arm a little or something.”

“Oops,” Ging said unapologetically, and Kite could feel him chuckling against his ear, little, warm puffs of air. He pulled him in tighter before letting go and taking a step back, putting a hand on Kite’s shoulder and smirking at him. “Didn’t mean to. Your hair is everywhere… but I really do appreciate your help. So, like, thanks, Kit Kite. You’re the man. And I kind of wanted to take a shower before I go to bed so do you need to sit on the floor still or am I clear?”

“You definitely aren’t,” Kite retorted dryly. “You go ahead and get in and I’ll come in there in a minute.” Ging grumbled, walking off into his room before retreating into the bathroom. Kite walked into the kitchen, pouring a glass of water and standing there drinking it while he waited for Ging to get in the shower. After a few minutes, he made his way over to the bathroom and rapped on the door. At Ging’s acknowledgment, he opened the door and went inside, settling onto the floor across from the sink.

“So, tomorrow is Friday,” Ging said from behind the curtain. “And then it’ll be the weekend. You want to do anything fun or just hang around here?” Kite looked incredulous despite knowing Ging couldn’t see him.

“Ging, you fell down a flight of stairs last weekend.”

“Hang around here, then,” the man retorted dryly. “But I guess you’re right. You’re pretty smart for a kid.” He laughed, and Kite rolled his eyes, taking a long sip of his water.

“Sure.”

“So I’ll wake you up tomorrow,” Ging said, and after a pause, he continued. “To take Gon to school, yeah?” Kite hummed.

“Yeah, that’s good,” he said. “I hope it doesn’t keep raining.”

“It kind of slacked after dinner,” Ging observed. “Maybe it’s gone for good. Let’s hope it is, anyway. The rain sucks.”

“I… second that. I hate the rain.”

“Oh, yeah? Uh. What did you do?” Ging asked, before elaborating. “Like, when it rained?”

“Um. I didn’t really do anything. I mean, I tried to stay dry, but it’s just water, right?” Kite said absently. “It was always the worst in the fall, though, because it was cold.”

“Sure, it’s just water, but what about hypothermia and stuff?” Ging asked, sounding incredulous. “You had to get sick or something.”

“Hypothermia? This isn’t freaking Antarctica, Ging.”

“God, Kite! You don’t have to be in Antarctica to get hypothermia! It’s just if you get cold… and wet, or something…” Ging retorted, trailing off. Kite snorted.

“You sound like you don’t know for sure,” he said dryly. “You’re not a doctor.”

“Yeah? Well, I still know stuff about stuff, smarty pants. Oh, damn, what happened to your shoulder? I haven’t even looked at it since I got out of the hospital!”

“Please, Ging. That healed up ages ago. It’s fine.”

“You shouldn’t mess around with infection, bro. Your arm might have to get _amputated._ You wouldn’t have an _arm,_ Kite,” he said seriously. “But, like, it’s all scabbed over and stuff? Do you want me to look at it when I get out of here, just to be sure?”

“No. It’s fine. It scabbed over a long time ago.”

“If you say so.”

“You can look at it if you want.”

“It’s okay. I guess.”

“Now you’re the one acting like a- a depraved creep or whatever you called me,” Kite teased.

“It’s still you,” Ging said blandly. “Because you’re still just sitting on the bathroom floor out there. But I guess I’ll forgive you this time, because you’re not _that_ bad.”

“If you say so,” Kite retorted. “But I’m still going to remember how much you wanted to see my scab. Just remember that.” Ging snickered, before telling Kite to leave so he could get out. Kite stood, departing and waiting outside until Ging emerged. Then they bid each other goodnight and separated into their respective rooms. Kite slept peacefully that night, and he woke up early the next morning to Ging shaking his shoulder.

The morning was cold, but the rain had passed, and Kite and Ging both were thankful for that. That meant, however, that Gon was more than a little eager to play in the puddles. Unfortunately, his father deemed it off-limits on this occasion, since he had a long day of school ahead of him, and getting wet would be probably be a terrible idea. Kite just smiled as he watched the two fuss playfully, ending with Gon pouting dramatically and Ging just rolling his eyes and chuckling. They reached the school still-mostly dry, and it really hadn’t taken long for Gon’s mood to improve.

They didn’t see Kurapika when they dropped Gon off at his classroom, but Killua was already there. As they walked down the stairs, Ging was grumbling something under-breath about Kurapika being annoyingly punctual, and he didn’t even notice when he bumped into someone on the sidewalk outside the school building. “Oh, hey, sorry about that, man,” he said immediately, following up the statement by some awkward laughter, and the tall, thin person he had bumped into turned around.

But Kite didn’t need the person to turn around to recognize him; the dyed cherry-red hair was more than enough to identify him. Kite’s breath caught in his throat, and he felt like his heart stopped beating, at least for a moment. (He felt cold.) Narrow eyes fell on him, and a smile spread over pale lips, and then the man directed his attention back to Ging.

“No problem at all,” he said casually, (always so calm, so calculated) and then after a moment, he amended: “Since you apologized. Well, see you around, _Kite._ ” He brushed past them, continuing down the sidewalk chuckling to himself. Ging looked confused, turning to watch him go.

“Who the hell was that creep?” he asked incredulously. Kite couldn’t speak, still feeling breathless and cold. Ging looked over at him for an answer, and the confusion turned to concern. “Whoa, man. You okay? You look a little pale.” Kite shook himself.

“I-I’m fine,” he stuttered, clearing his throat conspicuously. “I just- it’s nothing. You want to go home?” He suggested it a little too quickly, a little too eagerly, and he was worried that Ging would prod, but the man just frowned, before smiling tersely and clapping him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, let’s head back- back home,” he said. “That sounds good.” He started down the leaf-littered sidewalk, pausing when Kite didn’t follow immediately. Kite hurried after him, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring down at the pavement as they walked.

When they reached the apartment, Kite was worried that Ging might try to question him about the encounter again, but he was surprising avoidant of it, walking into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, one of the few processes he had mastered with his cast. (His need for coffee was just too great, he insisted, to wait on Kite to do it.) Kite followed after him, leaning up against the counter while Ging filled up the coffee machine with water, anticipating his questions but not feeling quite brave enough to initiate the conversation himself. Surely Ging was still confused. The man had obviously recognized him and his reaction was more than a little… incriminating. (Was incriminating the right word?)

Ging never said anything, humming cheerfully while he waited for the coffee to brew. After it was done, he offered some to Kite, which Kite accepted hesitantly. When he had poured two mugs, he picked up one and walked over to the couch, sitting down heavily and hissing when the coffee almost spilled out upon impact.

“Aw, damn. That almost spilled,” he muttered, setting the mug down on the side table. Kite picked up his own mug, slowly making his way over to the couch and sitting down a little more carefully. They sat in a not-comfortable-but-not-uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, and Ging blew on his coffee idly, picking up the remote and turning on the local news. Kite kept throwing glances at him, taking slow sips out of his mug. After a few minutes, Ging caught him. “Kite, man,” he said, and Kite wasn’t sure what, exactly, that meant.

“Yeah?” he questioned, shifting inconspicuously. Ging sighed.

“I’m not going to make you tell me anything you don’t want to,” he said. “Like, if you want to talk, I’m all ears, but if you don’t, that’s cool too. Stop… doing that weird looking thing you always do when your nervous.”

“Oh. Okay.” Kite turned his attention to the television. He didn’t think he wanted to talk about anything at the moment. (Never was preferable, but when had that ever worked out?) They fell into a more comfortable silence. Ging kept laughing at the more ‘local’ stories, breathily and inconspicuous, and it made Kite smile. His laughter wasn’t hiding something anymore; it was like a weight had been lifted from it, and that eased the stress that was weighing on Kite, in a strange sort of way.

 

x-x

 

They left to pick up Gon with plenty of time; too much time, perhaps, because they actually managed to get there before Kurapika. When they arrived, Ging pulled out his phone, checking the time with a baffled expression.

“You think he’s okay?” he asked after shoving it back in his pocket. “I mean, we’ve only got like ten minutes until the kids get out. What would happen to Killua if he _wasn’t here_ at least ten minutes early? Kid might croak or something.” Kite just shrugged, looking up and down the hallway. It was unusual, he supposed, but everyone was late on occasion, right? Just because he could never recall a time when Kurapika was even remotely close to being late during their short acquaintance didn’t mean anything. Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long for an explanation.

The blond was walking down the hallway quickly, looking generally harried and anxious, and he had another person with him. The tagalong was young, Kite hypothesized; his hair was dyed a dull purple (with terrible, rust colored roots,) and he was wearing a copious amount of eyeliner, and for a few moments after he arrived, Kite couldn’t tell why, but his face was just slightly off; then he realized Kurapika’s friend didn’t have eyebrows. He only had one arm as well, but Kite was a lot more distracted by his lack of brow. Ging seemed to recognize him.

“Well, if it isn’t Shoot Mackernassy!” he exclaimed, helpfully supplying Shoot’s name. “Hey, buddy, how’s it going? Whoa, what the hell happened to your face?”

“He shaved off his eyebrows, _Ging,_ ” Kurapika said incredulously. “I think _everyone_ has noticed.” Ging made an ‘ah’ sound, nodding exaggeratedly.

“Yep, yep, that’s it,” he said. “Your eyebrows are freaking gone. What gives?”

“Ugh, I wanted to shave them off,” Shoot retorted in a quiet, rebellious tone. “I don’t _need_ eyebrows, you know. I don’t know why everyone thinks I _need_ eyebrows. They _literally_ do nothing.”

“Actually,” Kurapika said condescendingly. “They protect your eyes from debris. But really, that’s irrelevant. Shoot, I’d like to introduce you to Kite, Ging’s… friend. Kite, this is Shoot, my friend Morel’s son. You two are the same age.”

“Hey,” Kite said awkwardly. “I’m… Kite.”

“Yeah, that’s what Kurapika literally just said,” Shoot replied, and although his words were, overall, generally rude, Kite got the distinct impression that his annoyance was more directed at Kurapika. Kurapika looked frustrated.

“Please, Shoot, try to be polite,” he said. “You’ll never get a job where you have to deal with people with that sort of attitude.” Shoot just rolled his eyes.

“I already work at a record store. I deal with people _all the time._ ” Kurapika’s frustration visibly multiplied, but Ging interrupted them before they could bicker any more.

“Why are you following Kurapika around, kid?” he asked. “He need help crossing the road or something?” His words elicited a small, almost humorless laugh from the teenager.

“He and my dad wanted me to ‘shadow’ him today; to learn about being a librarian or something,” he said quietly. “I never wanted to be a librarian.”

“Well, you’ll have to decide sooner or later,” Kurapika interjected. “Ging, would you help me. I need to put out these flyers on the bulletin boards on each floor. I sure Shoot and _Kite_ can manage waiting on the kids _just fine_.” His words were spoken with a strange sort of emphasis, and Ging looked confused, but he let Kurapika drag him off anyway, leaving Shoot and Kite in an awkward sort of silence.

“So,” Shoot said finally. “Kurapika told me you were homeless.”

“Um…” Kite trailed off, unsure of what to say. He was homeless, but why did Kurapika…? He pushed the thoughts away; of course Kurapika did. “Yeah, I was, but… I live with Ging now.”

“Cool,” Shoot replied, nodding and looking straight ahead. “What was it like?”

“Oh… um… not good? I guess… I mean, I was _homeless_ ,” Kite supplied. What was being homeless like? He didn’t have a home; it was cold; it wasn’t particularly fun. “So like… I was homeless.”

“That’s pretty… yeah,” Shoot said. “Anyway, Kurapika dragged me along because he wanted to meet you… or something. I don’t know why. But, like, I guess it’s whatever. It’s better than staying in that dank library; that place has terrible circulation. It was totally aggravating my allergies.”

“Why did you shave off your eyebrows?” Kite blurted out; he hadn’t been able to stop noticing the significant lack of eyebrows on Shoot’s face. Shoot shot him a withering look that made Kite shrink back a little, but he kept a strong face. Shoot sighed. 

“For the social experience,” he said bitterly. “Today’s society judges everyone on appearance. After shaving off my eyebrows, I feel like I’ve been living in a completely different world; people are accepting me based on who I am, not the hair on my face.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Yeah. It’s been pretty deep so far. I’ve been blogging about it on my Tumblr, if you want to check it out.” Kite didn’t have any idea what a ‘Tumblr’ was, but he decided not to question it, and Shoot continued. “So, who does your hair?”

“Um… me?” Kite replied uncertainly. Shoot raised the part of his face where his eyebrow should have been, and Kite started staring at the empty space again.

“Really? Do you just bleach it, or do you bleach it and then dye it?” he asked, reaching out and catching the end of Kite’s hair in his fingers, inspecting it expertly, before speaking again without giving Kite any time to reply. “Hm. You don’t really have any breakage. That’s pretty impressive. What products do you use?” Kite was becoming more and more overwhelmed by the minute. Hopefully Ging would return soon and save him. He just shook his head.

“No. I… this is just what it looks like.”

“You’re kidding me?”

“Y- I mean no? It’s true. This is just kind of… my hair.”

“I don’t really believe you,” Shoot replied, narrowing his eyes and looking at Kite intensely. “C’mon, man, I obviously dye my hair. You don’t have to be, like, weird about it, yeah?”

“Why would I dye my hair?”

“Um, because you wanted that color hair? It’s _kind of_ a thing right now.” The ‘that’ was accompanied by a vague gesture to Kite’s hair as a whole. Kite shook his head adamantly.

“I swear I didn’t… bleach it… or dye it… or anything,” he said.

“Yeah? Okay… I guess,” Shoot replied skeptically. “You could totally pull off like a pastel goth thing or whatever. You should try it, if you ever want… up your aesthetic.” Kite didn’t know what a pastel goth was, and he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to ‘up his aesthetic,’ so he didn’t reply. Shoot just sighed dramatically, leaning up against the wall. “Hey, I heard Ging got wasted and fell down some stairs; is that true?” Kite just looked at him disbelievingly.

“Who told you that?” he asked.

“Kurapika. Obviously. Well?”

“I… no.”

“No, he didn’t, or no, you won’t tell me?” Shoot questioned. Kite shot him a scornful glare, and Shoot snorted. “I don’t really care. I just wondered because Kurapika is _pretty_ dramatic. I mean, I saw the cast and stuff, but I wasn’t sure if it was because he _actually_ got drunk and fell down some stairs. That’s pretty… sad.” Kite maintained his silence. Shoot kept looking at him, and Kite turned to glare at him more directly.

“I don’t think it really matters,” he said. He had been feeling awkward before, but now he was more just… irritated. “And I don’t think it’s really any of _your_ business.” Shoot raised a bare eyebrow bone, looking at Kite inquisitively before he laughed. Kite furrowed his brows. (Why was he laughing?)

“Chill,” Shoot retorted before laughing again. “I think we _all_ know what Ging is like. Hey… so…” Seeming to sense the tense atmosphere, he trailed off, and he never had the opportunity to continue, because Ging and Kurapika were approaching them. Ging was holding a flyer, looking at it with furrowed eyebrows. He held it up when they stopped next to them so Kite could see.

“Kite, tell Kurapika we don’t need to do this bullshit,” he said. Kite took the flyer from him, looking at it inquisitively. It was flyer for a bake sale. Kite threw a confused look up at Ging, handing the flyer back to him. Ging took it.

“Why wouldn’t you do it?” Kite asked. “It’s for the library.”

“Kite is right,” Kurapika said unhelpfully. “Ging, it’s not going to kill you to do something decent for once in your life. We’re going to use the money to improve the _children’s_ section.” Ging snorted.

“Please, Kurapika,” he said incredulously. “Just let me live my life in peace. And since when have you ever cared about the library, Kite?”

“It would be fun to do,” Kite interjected. “We should… I mean, we could do it. It might be fun to bake stuff.” Kurapika looked triumphant, and Ging sighed, rolling his eyes, but his posture was, overall, defeated. It was clear that Kite had won, even with his minimalistic persuasion. 

“Fine, whatever,” Ging said, huffing and crossing his arms. Their ‘conversation’ was interrupted by the sound of the bell, and it wasn’t long before Gon and Killua had been retrieved and the two trios were parting ways. Before they did, however, Shoot turned to address Kite, his expression stubborn and mostly unreadable (and not because of his lack-of-eyebrows, even though that definitely muddied the waters as far as expression goes.).

“So yeah,” he said casually. “It was… cool to meet you, I guess. You should come to hear my band play sometimes. We’re pretty rad. We mostly play like punk-alternative stuff, so if you’re into that kind of music… but yeah, you should come. We don’t usually have much of an audience, so it’d probably be good… for when we make it big.”

“Band…?” Kite questioned. “I mean, yeah, sure,” he amended quickly. “That’d be cool.”

“Sweet. I’ll let you know,” Shoot said, smiling a small, odd sort of smile. Kurapika huffed dramatically, rolling his eyes.

“Shoot, I thought you stopped being in that silly ‘band?’” he questioned. “You need to think about your future career, not that ridiculous… music,” Shoot seemed offended.

“I started that band, man; I can’t quit,” he retorted. “Besides, maybe being in my band _is_ what I want to do for my future career…” The last part of his reply was mumbled, and it didn’t seem like Kurapika paid it much mind. He just sighed again, putting a hand on Killua’s shoulder to stop him from fidgeting.

“Okay, well, we better be going. I still want to talk to you about re-shelving books before you have to leave. Come on, you two.” He started hurrying his two charges along, turning to offer Kite, Ging, and Gon a hassled-looking wave. “Bye, Kite, Ging, Gon. We’ll see you tomorrow.” The three waved before starting walking in the opposite direction towards the apartment. Gon had already latched onto both their hands, humming cheerfully as he started talking about his day.

“And then Ms. Bisky,” he was saying, “said that we were going to talk about something new tomorrow, but she didn’t say what! I hope it’s something exciting…. I bet it will be! It’s always exciting. Kite, what do you think?” Kite hummed, allowing his hand to be pulled back and forth relentlessly by the child.

“I don’t know. Something fun, probably,” he said. “Maybe… something new about plants.”

“Oh I hope so! I love learning about plants!” Gon exclaimed, and then he turned to Ging. “Daddy, do you know what we’re doing?” he asked.

“Nope,” Ging said lightly. “I sure don’t. But it’ll be fun, I’m sure. I mean, you always like school, right? Ha. You’re the opposite of me as a kid. I never liked all that learning and stuff. That means you’ll be a real smarty one day.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll be a _scientist!_ ” Gon suggested. “Or an _adventurer_! That’d be so cool! Or maybe I could be an _archeologist_!” The word was slightly mispronounced, but Gon didn’t seem to mind or notice, continuing on with his list excitedly. Kite smiled, turning his attention up to the clear sky overhead before looking in front of him. Had he looked up at the cloudless sky for even a second larger, he would have missed the flash of red disappearing into a little coffee shop down the sidewalk. He kept walking, but the rest of him seemed to freeze. The small smile he had been wearing faded, and his chest seemed to contract painfully, his heart pounding against the constraints of his chest.

The logical part of his mind argued that it could have been _anything._ A sweater. A purse. A hat. Hell, someone else with dyed hair. He hadn’t seen _him_ in weeks, until that morning. What was the likelihood he’d see him again in the same day? He shook the thoughts away, trying to focus on the sound of Gon’s voice as the child continued to babble excitedly. He didn’t look in the coffee shop when they passed.    

                                                                                                              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave your comments below and let me know what you think. For this chapter, I've edited the tags to include some new characters/ships that will appear in this fic. Thanks again to my beta Abby for all her help!


	11. New Friends

The bake sale was on the following Monday, so around twelve o’clock in the afternoon that Sunday after lunch, Kite and Ging went into the kitchen in hopes of making something acceptable. They had had a lazy Saturday; while they had, in fact, planned to decide what they were making and get the ingredients then, Gon had wanted to build a puzzle, and even with their combined strength, they had a difficult time formulating a reason why they _shouldn’t_. So Ging had gone and fished an old puzzle out the closet and they spent all of Saturday working on the one-thousand-piece puzzle, a vague wintry scene with a lot of blue and white, only stopping to order Chinese food and eat it. About half-way through, Gon had actually abandoned them, setting up an elaborate block structure on the carpet beside the coffee table and entertaining himself. When he quit, they could have too, they realized, but they were both much too stubborn for that. On Sunday, then, they wandered into the kitchen and tried to determine what they could make with what they had, which, as it happened, turned out to be a white cake.

Gon was ‘helping,’ throwing extra sugar into the batter and volunteering to run the mixer, so it took them about an extra hour of work to actually produce the batter. And then, after the batter had poured into the pan, it was time for the cleanup, which, thanks to Gon (they blamed Gon. It _definitely_ wouldn’t have been like that if it was just them,) was also very difficult. Gon decided to leave for the cleanup. Fortunately, they were able to not burn the cake _and_ scrub all of the batter off on the bottom of the cabinets (how did it get there?) _and_ sweep up all of the flour. Ging was leaning up against the counter looking exhausted as Kite pulled the cake out of the oven.

“Let’s never do this again,” Ging stated. Kite hummed his agreement.

“Agreed,” he said, pulling off the oven mitts. “There was so much batter _everywhere._ I feel like _I’m_ still covered in it.” Ging shivered.

“Yeah…” he muttered, voice haunted. “Hey, my dizziness has been a lot better!”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yep; I haven’t had a real bad dizzy spell all weekend. Maybe I’m finally clearing up.”

“You sound like a rash…” Kite muttered sarcastically, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “But I’m glad. You should get that cast off at the beginning of the week after next, right? So, only a week of having to wear it at work. That isn’t that bad.”

“Yeah… I’m just worried people are going to gossip about it and stuff,” Ging said. “I’m sure Pariston has already told everyone what happened.” Kite frowned; he had thought about that already, of course, but then he had sort of forgotten. He hoped that whatever changes occurred in Ging’s workplace wouldn’t affect the progress Ging had made.

“Don’t let them bother you,” Kite retorted. “People always talk about stuff, but they’ll probably forget about it in a week.” Ging scoffed, rolling his eyes but wearing a playful expression.

“Please,” he said dramatically. “Are _you_ really giving me social advice?” Kite knew he was teasing, but he still frowned. He wasn’t completely socially inept, was he?

“I’m not that bad,” he defended himself. “I can dispense social advice if I want to.” Ging looked skeptical, and he was about to retort, but they were interrupted by a soft knocking at the door. They both looked toward the foyer. It was barely audible, almost as if whoever was knocking didn’t really want to be heard. Ging raised an eyebrow, pursing his lips as he threw a glance at Kite.

“Who the hell is knocking on our door?” he asked. It was an odd occurrence. Kite hadn’t really met many of Ging’s friends (he assumed there was more) other than Kurapika, and the blond was always very adamant about announcing himself via text before showing up. Ging strode over to the door, unlocking it. Kite hovered around in the kitchen, looking over towards the foyer curiously but not joining Ging there. Ging pulled the door open. “Oh… hey,” Kite heard him say. There was a mumbled reply that he couldn’t make out, and then Ging spoke again: “Yeah, come in. I’ll go get him.”

Ging reappeared in the kitchen just a moment later wearing a wolfish smile. “What?” Kite questioned blatantly.

“It was for you,” Ging replied, words mysterious and vague. “In the foyer. Now.” A quick wave of panic washed over Kite. _He_ didn’t know where Kite was staying, did he? No. There was no way. With a racing heart, Kite furrowed his brow, slowly walking past Ging and throwing a cautious glance towards him as he passed. Ging was still smiling suspiciously. As Kite rounded the corner, he found Shoot standing in the foyer, awkwardly flicking at the black polish on his fingernails. He looked up when Kite entered the foyer. Some of Kite’s panic faded.

“Oh. Hi… Shoot,” he said uncomfortably, coming to a quick stop about a yard away from Shoot. Shoot looked nonchalant, but pushed at his hair like he wasn’t quite so calm.

“Hey,” he said casually. “So, yeah. Kurapika told me you _probably_ weren’t busy, so I should just stop by.” (Stop by for what? What could Shoot possibly want?)

“Stop by for what?” he blurted out.

“Um…” Shoot trailed off. “Yeah. My band. We were going to practice… and you know, never mind. _Kurapika_ wanted me to stop by, but like, I should probably go.” Kite didn’t know what to say, and it seemed like Shoot was making to leave, but fortunately, Ging intervened.

“Yo, wait. Were you going to ask Kite to tag along?” he asked, whacking Kite softly on the shoulder as he passed and dragging Shoot away from the door by the sleeve unapologetically. “You know, that would great. I always say Kite needs to get out more. But you probably thought he might be busy. Don’t worry; he’s never busy. Kite, why don’t you go get your jacket… put on your shoes… whatever you need to do, and then you can go hear Shoot’s band practice, right?” Kite opened his mouth to reply, before closing it and just moving his head in a strange hybrid of yes and no that eventually settled on yes, backing away awkwardly before retreating into his room.

After he had put on his jacket like Ging had said, and he was tugging on his shoes, Ging came into the room, grinning brightly with his hands shoved in his pockets. “So cute,” he said teasingly. “Your first little friend! I wanna take a picture of you two together before you leave!”

“Ging, what am I supposed to do?”

“What do you mean?” Ging smile faded a little, and he raised his eyebrow.

“I meant exactly what I said!” Kite hissed. “I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to talk to him; I think he already thinks I’m weird! I always act really weird around him, at least. And he’s going to try to introduce me to _other people_. What if they… I don’t know! What they ask me if I was homeless?”

“You tell them the truth?” Ging seemed genuinely concerned by that point, walking over to stand next to Kite and pat him on the shoulder. “You need to relax. Look, I can go in there and tell Shoot you’re not going if you need me to, but… maybe it’d be fun?” Kite looked at him like he was insane. Fun? He felt like he hadn’t had _fun_ without Ging and Gon being involved in well over five years. How was he supposed to have fun if he was worrying about unknowingly offending someone? He knew he wasn’t like them; he knew he could never _be_ like them. For as long as he could remember, he had never been like _them. Them._ The other people his age. They were like aliens to him. “Kite?”

“I…” he trailed off. “I’m going to go.” He wasn’t sure why he said it. His mind was screaming at him to take it back, to just hide in Ging’s warm, cozy apartment for as long as he could, to hide from _them._ But maybe, just maybe, somewhere deep inside him, he sort of wanted to know what it was like to be like them, even for just a few hours. He stood up, giving Ging a shaky smile before walking into the living room. Ging looked almost relieved, following after him.

Shoot was sitting on the couch, still looking uncomfortable under his mask of chilly casualness. When Kite emerged, his stood, shoving his hand in his pocket and walking towards the foyer, wrenching open the door. “Cool,” he said absently, as he walked out into the hallway. “It’s always a pleasure to introduce people to _good music,_ not like that crap they play on the radio.” Kite followed him, throwing one last look at Ging as he stepped over the threshold; Ging returned his gaze with a smile.

They didn’t talk as they descended the stairs, or as they walked out of the lobby and out onto the leaf-strewn sidewalk. Shoot still had his hand shoved in his pocket, never quite making eye contact with Kite, but throwing little, cautious glances at him when he thought Kite wasn’t looking. After a few minutes of walking in awkward silence, Kite cleared his throat. “So, um… what’s your band called?” he asked. Shoot seemed almost grateful for him breaking the silence.

“Yeah, it’s called the Palace Raiders,” Shoot said very seriously. “Right now… we’ve kind’ve been working on that… we change the name sometimes.” Kite nodded.

“Oh. Cool.”

“Do you play?” Shoot asked suddenly, and Kite blinked.

“No? I mean, do you mean like-”

“Instruments, bro,” Shoot said, unimpressed. “I mean, I’m not talking about sports. Do you play any instruments?”

“I used to play piano,” Kite said suspiciously. Shoot looked over at him then, with a raised lack-of-brow. He looked mildly surprised, and Kite wondered why. Then he remembered that Kurapika had supposedly explained his ‘circumstances’ to Shoot, and there was no telling what Kurapika had said. Shoot probably thought he was on drugs or a prostitute or Oliver Twist or something.

“No freaking way,” Shoot said almost eagerly. “We don’t have anyone to play piano in the band. My buddy Knuckle plays the drums and my friend Palm plays the guitar, so that’s all we’ve got. You should totally jam with us sometime. I mean, we can’t make you, like, an official member _right now_ , but you could still play with us. I’ve totally been wanting to do a rad cover of _My Immortal,_ but it just doesn’t sound right with only guitar and drums.” Kite blinked, surprised by Shoot’s sudden outpouring of words. It seemed like he was happy to talk once a topic had been provided. Suddenly, Kite was struck by what Shoot was suggesting, and he shook his head quickly.

“No, no, I don’t play piano like _that_ ,” he said. “I played when I was a kid… like six years ago. I can’t play anymore.” Shoot pursed his lips, looking at his disbelievingly as he weaved past somebody on the sidewalk. Kite just stared back at him, hoping Shoot would let it go.

“Can you just forget how to play?” he asked. “Like, I don’t think that’s something you can just _forget_. I bet you could play if you just tried.”

“I don’t know…” Kite trailed off, looking down at the sidewalk uncomfortably. “I was really terrible; you probably wouldn’t want me to play with your band anyway.”

“Well… Palm still has the old keyboard we bought at a yard sale… but maybe next time,” Shoot said, sounding disappointed. “I’ll tell her to bring it next time for sure, though. If we could get you back playing piano…” He seemed like he was thinking. “Yeah, that would be really good. You’d totally fit in the aesthetic of our band too. You’d be like the tall, mysterious one.” Kite contemplated arguing, but he decided not to. Shoot seemed strangely happy; there was a small smile playing at his lips and his walk seemed just a little jauntier then it had before. Kite wondered what he was thinking. And to be honest, Kite sort of liked the sound of a ‘next time.’

“Okay. I guess. I’m really crappy, though, so don’t blame me if I can’t play it.” The words were sarcastic, surprisingly comfortable, and Kite blinked when he realized it was him who had said it. “Yeah…” he trailed off awkwardly. Shoot just laughed breathily.

“We’ll see. Even if your bad right now, you at least know _something,_ ” he said. “I bet we could get you into the groove in no time.” Kite threw him a skeptical glance, and Shoot just smiled.

 

x-x

 

They reached what Kite assumed was Shoot’s home in about twenty minutes, a line of spacious-looking condominiums in a much more residential part of town. They were all painted a pale beige color, lined up in perfect little rows with white, front-facing garages and sloping grey rooves littered with fallen leaves. Shoot walked up the stairs of one, pulling a key out of his pocket and unlocking it as he complained about how bright and hot the sun was. He stepped into the foyer, kicking off his shoes, and Kite followed his lead, standing there awkwardly in the nice, little space. Inside, the walls were all painted a chic sort of grey, and just beyond the foyer was a living room with dark, leather furniture.

There was a staircase against one of the walls of the living room, and Shoot walked towards it, calling out to someone that he was ‘home’ as he started ascending the stairs with Kite behind him. They didn’t make it far, however, before a large man appeared from one of the doors adjacent the stairs. He was tall, with grey, shoulder length hair and a pair of small, round glasses. He was drying a pan with a towel, so Kite assumed the door he had come from lead to the kitchen. He smiled when he saw the two of them there.

“Ah, Shoot,” he said. “I see you found your friend.” Shoot just rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, dad, I did,” he said. “Kite, this is my dad. Dad, this is Kite.”

“Oh… um… hi,” Kite said gracelessly, turning to face the man a little too abruptly. “It’s nice to meet you... Mr. Mackernassey.” The man just chuckled, a low, deep rumbling sound.

“Nice to meet you too, kid,” he replied. “You can just call me Morel. I don’t really go for all that sort of mister business. I’ve heard a lot about you… Well, you boys have fun.” He chuckled again, and Kite found him to be a strange sort of enigmatic that was discomforting.

“God, dad,” Shoot groaned. “You don’t have to be so formal about everything. Whatever. Kite’s just here to hear my band play. Did Knuckle or Palm get here yet?” Morel shook his head, walking back into the kitchen without saying anything more and humming under breath. Shoot looked at Kite with an exhausted expression before making short work of the rest of the stairs and pulling open the first door on the right, letting Kite walk in before him.

The room inside suited Shoot, Kite thought. The walls were painted a dark blue, and the bed was dressed in red sheets. Most of the room was occupied by a drum set and the bed, but there was a desk shoved against one wall, and a messy bookshelf. Shoot walked over to the desk, pulling out the desk chair and gesturing that Kite should sit there vaguely. Kite did. Shoot sat down on the bed, looking at him awkwardly before clearing his throat.

“So. Um. I think we got off to kind of a weird start, the other day,” he said. “I didn’t really mean to accuse you of… dying your hair or whatever. Can we try again?”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Kite said quickly. He wanted to say something else, to write off the discomfort of their first meeting as his own fault, but he couldn’t seem to find the words. Shoot cleared his throat.

“Let’s try again, then?” Shoot asked cautiously, and Kite nodded, trying to smile. Shoot looked like he was going to say more but they were interrupted by the door slamming open and two individuals walking into the room. One was a short teenager, with interestingly coiffed hair and a baggy white hoodie. The other was a girl, long black hair falling over her shoulders and a guitar case clutched in her pale hand. They had a certain resemblance to one another, and Kite noted that neither of them seemed to share Shoot’s particular ‘aesthetic.’  Well, the girl was similar, but in a more intimidating way than Shoot could ever hope to achieve.

“Hey!” the guy shouted in a challenging sort of greeting. Shoot looked annoyed.

“God, Knuckle, try not to slam my door,” he said exasperatedly, even though fondness definitely hid behind his words. Knuckle walked over to the bed, flopping down next to Shoot dramatically before seeming to notice Kite, raising his eyebrow as he sat back up to stare at him. The girl had already noticed him, but didn’t seem too interested, walking over to the corner where the drums were and setting down her case. Knuckle made a humming sound.

“Hey… you’re that guy, aren’t you?” he said accusatorily, and Kite squirmed in his seat, making an awkward ‘um’ sound. “Yeah! The homeless one!”

“ _God_ , Knuckle!” Shoot exclaimed again. “I told you to act cool about this! This is Kite. I invited him to come hear the band play. Remember, Kurapika introduced me to him.”

“And we definitely haven’t been talking about him behind his back.” The girl had spoken, looking back and forth between the three of them with narrowed eyes.

“What?” Kite questioned, confused.

“ _Palm!_ ” Shoot chided.

“We definitely haven’t!” Knuckle chimed in.

“Yeah,” Palm agreed. Shoot just rolled his eyes, looking exasperated. Kite had noticed that Shoot had definitely relaxed since the other two had arrived. Did being around him really make Shoot that uncomfortable? He couldn’t help but feel bad for causing him discomfort; it was probably Kurapika’s doing that Shoot had even invited him.

“Whatever,” Shoot said, gesturing to Palm and Knuckle vaguely. “That’s Palm and Knuckle. They play in my band. They’re pretty cool… when they’re not being _total_ idiots. Are you ready to hear us play? It’s probably better than having to hear _them_ talk.” He was obviously try to play it off, but Kite noted the light blush that had flushed his nose.

“Um, yeah. That’s good,” Kite replied awkwardly. The three discussed what they wanted to play in oddly hushed tones before Knuckle sat down behind the drum set and Palm set up her guitar, picking it up. And then they started to play.

Kite didn’t really know if it was good or not. He didn’t recognize any of the songs, and the vocals (provided mostly by Shoot and sometimes by Palm) sounded a little off every now and then, but then again, he didn’t have any clue how to judge that particular genre of music, so he just told them it sounded good and that he liked it and no, he didn’t really have any suggestions and of course, he would love to hear them play something else, and somehow, listening to them play was a lot easier than trying to communicate with them, no matter how off the vocals got.

After playing for a few hours, they stopped, because apparently Knuckle and Palm’s dad (they were brother and sister, Kite had learned) had texted them that it was time for dinner. Shoot suggested they all walk together because Knuckle and Palm purportedly lived on the way, and Shoot didn’t want Kite to get lost of his way home. So, they took off into the dusky world, golden light filtering out from between the buildings, and the three friends started to chat.

“Did you hear about Meleoron?” Palm questioned.

“No. What about him?” Shoot retorted with a raised brow-bone. “Did he get in trouble again?”

“Nope,” Palm said brightly. “Apparently, he already knows where he’s going to school next fall.” She smirked at him, and it was clear there was some kind of inside joke at play. Shoot glowered and Knuckle looked vaguely offended, whacking his sister on the shoulder.

“Hey, lay off him, Palm,” he said defensively. “Shoot’s going to decide what he wants to do, and that doesn’t have to be college if he doesn’t want it to be! Not everyone decides they want to go to some freaking culinary school or whatever you want to do by age thirteen. He’s just trying to make his mind up.” Palm snorted.

“Well, he’s going to miss all the earlier applications. Again,” she said. “I’m just trying to help push him along.” Knuckle bristled but Shoot just waved them off.

“And maybe we should talk about something a little less argumentative while _Kite_ is around,” he said. “It’s not cool to talk about stuff he doesn’t know about while he’s standing right here.” Kite made an awkward sound halfway between a dismissal and an agreement.

“Kite, bro, so basically,” Knuckle said, and the other two looked at him disbelievingly, because this was obviously not what they meant. “Shoot hasn’t decided if he wants to go to school or not, and Palm keeps getting up in his grill about. She wants to go be a chef or some BS, so she thinks that _everyone_ should already have their life figured out.”

“Oh,” Kite replied. “That’s… cool.” Palm decided to change the subject.

“So, Kite, who does your _hair_?” she asked, and Kite instantly groaned internally. (Not again.) “It’s gorgeous.” Shoot groaned externally.

“No one does his hair, _Palm_ ,” he said. “It’s freaking _natural._ ”

“You’re kidding me?”

“No.”

“No way!” Knuckle exclaimed. “That’s like… incredible! It’s so _white_!” Kite just looked at him. “Are you an _albino?_ ”

“I don’t think so?”

“Hey,” Shoot said overtly. “Let’s leave Kite alone.” Knuckle pouted, but it didn’t take long until they were talking about another mutual acquaintance. Kite was, in a way, impressed by Shoot’s interactions with his friends; he always seemed so uncomfortable when he was just talking to Kite, but when Palm and Knuckle got there (Knuckle, in particular), it seemed as if the other half of his act arrived, and they were finally able to fall back into a familiar routine. They bickered casually, and Shoot shoved Knuckle gently, and Palm laughed, and Kite felt like he was intruding on something he wasn’t meant to be involved with. He looked down at the concrete, listening to them bantering and wondering why it was so difficult for him to talk like they did. 

When they reached Kite’s apartment, they said their goodbyes, and Kite gave one last awkward wave before disappearing behind the opaque glass doors of the building. He quickly ascended the stairs, walking down the hallway to the correct apartment before pulling out his key and unlocking the door. As he was about to push open the door, he froze, stopped in his tracks by a small, inconspicuous ‘hiss’ from within the apartment. He did a double-take, checking the door number to confirm that he was at the right apartment, even though his key had just worked. The numbers were still correct. He slowly pushed open the door, blinking as he took in the scene before him.

Ging and Gon were both on the carpet. Gon was sitting back, and Ging was on his knees, frantically trying to control… a cat. It was muddy and angry, swatting at Ging, who just barely managed to hold back his curses as he quickly pulled back his hand. It was a tiny thing, with dirty grey fur. Kite walked over to them in confusion.

“What’s… up?” he asked awkwardly. Ging startled, turning to look at him with wide eyes.

“Kite, man. Hey,” he said. Gon beamed at Kite.

“Look Kite! We found a _kitty_!”

“I- I see that,” Kite replied, watching as the cat scurried off and hid behind the television stand. “How’d that happen?” Gon had crawled over to the stand before being pulled back by a harried looking Ging, who laughed as he tried to protect his son from the feral beast.

“Well, it was cold, I think,” he said. “And he only has one good eye, man. And he looked so hungry and skinny. I had to help him out… I couldn’t just _leave_ him out there.”

“Wow, Ging. You really have a problem,” Kite said sardonically, squatting down by Ging and Gon to peer under the television stand. He couldn’t see much, just a furry grey mass hiding close to the wall. Ging looked affronted at his words, throwing him a disbelieving look.

“Kite, _Gon_ saw it first,” he defended. “It’s not my fault. You know I can’t tell the kid no half the time. And it really did look hungry. He was, like, meowing at me and stuff.” Kite chuckled, but the sound faded away as he watched the cat.

“Maybe we should back off,” he said, and when Ging looked at him curiously, he continued: “He looks… I don’t know. Do you have anything feed him?”

“Oh, man, no I don’t!” Ging exclaimed, standing up and taking a step back like Kite suggested, pulling Gon back with him. Kite followed his lead. “And I guess he needs a litter box and stuff and… other cat stuff. What do cats need?” Kite shrugged. Ging looked stressed. “I didn’t mean to adopt a cat,” he said.

“Like I said before: you have a problem.” Kite smiled at him sarcastically. Ging didn’t return it, shooting him an overdramatic look of annoyance.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, bud,” he said. “So… I guess we need to vet this thing, if we’re going to keep it around. Um. I don’t know any… vets.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. So… wait, I’ll call Kurapika; find out where he takes Killua’s gerbils to get… vetted.”

“Killua’s… gerbils?” Kite questioned, furrowing his brows. Him and Gon had stayed with the Kurta-Paladiknights for several days, and he didn’t recall any _gerbils._ Ging didn’t respond to his inquiry, pulling out his phone and calling Kurapika. He walked off into his room, and Kite couldn’t hear any of his conversations except for some vague murmurings, but he was more preoccupied by the fact that Gon was trying to stick his hand underneath the television stand to pet the unhappy cat. “Hey, Gon, let’s… not do that right now, okay? I think it’s scared.” Gon looked up at him with big, surprisingly watery eyes.

“But why? We’re being nice to him! And me and Daddy are always nice to animals,” the child retorted, and Kite paused.

“He,” he started finally. “Well, he probably doesn’t know that right now. Everything probably seems really scary and new and different. I’m sure he’ll get used to it in a while.” Gon looked disappointed, and Kite turned back to look at the cat huddled close to the wall. He related to it, in a way; he supposed it was just the whole getting saved from the cold by Ging theme that struck a personal chord with him, because he couldn’t really think of any other ways he was like a hissing, frightened cat.

“Can you try to get him out?” Gon questioned. “So we can try to show him it’s not scary?” Kite smiled, laughing softly.

“Let’s leave him be,” he said, and Gon looked disappointed but he didn’t try to push Kite anymore, sitting back on his rear and watching the stand vigilantly. Ging returned a few moments later, sighing dramatically as he came to a halt right behind them.

“So,” he said. “Kurapika is, like, mad at me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Kite replied, unsurprised.

“Yeah. He said it probably has rabies. I told him it wasn’t foaming at the mouth, but he didn’t care. Eh. And apparently the vet where he takes the gerbils is only for rats and sh-stuff, so we can’t take him there. Do the Mackernasseys have a dog or something?” Ging asked, shoving his phone in his pocket. Gon had started trying to poke the cat, and Kite pulled him back again.

“I don’t know. Why are you asking me?” he said. “And I still don’t know what’s happening. I just got here. Where did you find it?”

“ _Kite,_ ” Ging whined. “It was cold and hungry. And it was out back by the dumpster. I was taking down the trash, and Gon was tagging along, and it _meowed_ at me. And I thought maybe you saw a dog or something since you were literally just at their house.”

“I didn’t.” Kite stared him down and Ging sighed, plopping down on his couch and typing aggressively on his smartphone. Kite pulled Gon’s hand from underneath the television stand, and Gon sat back, pouting.

“Did you have fun?” Ging asked suddenly, casually, not looking up from his phone. Kite blinked.

“I- what?”

“At Shoot’s or whatever? What did you do?”

“Oh. He, um. His band was practicing or something,” Kite said. “It was fun. He thinks I know how to play piano now. I think- I think I messed up. Yeah. Ha. He wants me to play in his band now. But yeah. It was fun.” Ging smiled, humming as he started tapping away of the phone’s screen. Kite sat back next to Gon, who was crouching down close to the ground trying to see underneath the television stand. Kite watched him. He _did_ have fun, and the realization surprised him; he had _fun_. He smiled.

“What’re you smiling about?” Ging asked from behind him, and Kite turned.

“Oh. Nothing. I guess I’m just- never mind. Gon, don’t do that.” Gon had started trying to grab the cat again, and Ging just laughed. “Don’t laugh, Ging. It encourages him.” Ging just chuckled again, standing up and walking back into his bedroom. Kite could hear him making a phone call, and he turned his attention back to Gon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I've caught up to the chapters I had pre-written, but I am working on the new chapter now. It should still be out in around a week. Thanks again to my beta Abby!


	12. Good Listener

Fortunately, they were able to find a vet that was still open and had time to see the cat Ging had dragged in. Unfortunately, they were having a difficult time getting said cat out from underneath the television stand. Ging was trying to poke it out while Kite and Gon watched with rapt attention. The cat was hissing at him aggressively, but all of Kite’s suggestions of being ‘nicer’ were going unheard. “Try talking to it,” he called from the couch, sitting back against the cushions and crossing his legs. “Try to butter it up.” Ging huffed.

“Thanks, Kite,” he said. “You could help. I still have a cast, you know, and you’re being really- really unhelpful, man. Help me, Kite; I’m hurt.” Kite sighed, standing up and walking over next to Ging, crossing his arms as he looked down towards the television stand.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, and Ging shrugged, stretching as he stood, leaning the broom up against the wall.

“I don’t know. Try to run it out, I guess. I’m going to go call Kurapika again and see if he’ll give me a ride to the vet. I can’t actually drive, so… Yeah, anyway, try to get it out, maybe wrap it up in a blanket to stop it from clawing your face off. Just remember; I believe in you, man.” He made a quick escape, and Kite watched him go with a small sigh before turning back to the television stand and crouching down and looking underneath it. The cat was gone. Kite blinked, looking back and forth around the room looking for the beast. It was nowhere to be seen.

“Uh, Ging,” he called out, standing up and surveying the room. Yet again, his search yielded nothing, so he walked over to the kitchen, checking under the cabinets and in one of the cabinets that had been left open. Ging sighed dramatically, walking back into the living room. He furrowed his brow when he noticed that Kite wasn’t near the cabinet anymore, walking into the kitchen where Kite was still searching. Kite turned to look at him with a mildly concerned expression.

“What’s up?” Ging asked.

“The cat is gone,” Kite said simply. “I’m looking for it but I don’t know where it’s gone.”

“Oh my God, where did it go?” Ging sounded a lot more panicky than Kite thought necessary, jogging over to pause next to Kite. “Kite! Is it scratching Gon? Oh my God!” He started throwing open the cabinets, searching frantically, and Kite sat back on his legs, looking unimpressed.

“Ging, settle down. I don’t know where it went. But I’m sure we can find it. I mean, it has to be in the apartment, and I’m pretty sure we would know it if Gon had it in his room. It’s probably just under the couch or something,” he said, and Ging exhaled, seemingly trying to calm himself. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I am,” he replied. “Feeling a lot better. You’re right, of course. We can find it, easy-peasy. Yep. No problem.” His voice didn’t reflect the confidence of his words. They started searching, and they looked everywhere. Ging checked under all the furniture, and Kite looked around in his room. Ging got Kite to check on top of the bookshelves.

“I don’t see it,” Kite said, crossing his arms after climbing down from one of the kitchen chairs. “It wasn’t up there. It has to be around.” Ging frowned, a fretful expression on his face as he glanced around the room. Kite sighed.

“I’m just worried, man,” Ging muttered, walking over to check under the coach one more time. Kite crossed his arms. Ging bent over to look under the couch before pacing off into the kitchen to check on top of the fridge again. Then he turned around, looking at Kite with narrowed eyes. “Hey.”

“What?”

“We never checked on top of the kitchen cabinets. It could’ve jumped up there.”

“Ging. No. I’m not-”

“Please, Kite?”

“No.”

“But, it could’ve jumped up there!” Ging pleaded, walking over to where the kitchen chair was still by the bookshelf. He heaved it up, brushing past Kite as he carried it into the kitchen. Kite crossed his arms, setting his mouth into a firm line.

“Ging, I’m not climbing up on that chair to look on top of the cabinets. There’s no way it could’ve jumped up there without us noticing,” Kite said decidedly. “I’m not going to break my neck looking for that cat. It’ll show up eventually.”

“But Kite!”

“No, Ging.” Kite tried to maintain his solidarity, but Ging didn’t seem like he was give up that easy. He opened his mouth to protest, but they were interrupted by a loud crash from the foyer. They both turned around to see a furry, grey mass hunched on the table next to the door. The picture frame containing the photograph of Ging’s cousin and Gon was laying on the floor face down. Ging ran into the foyer, trying to grab the cat. The cat jumped away. Kite sighed. “Ging, stop.”

“We gotta get it, man!”

They caught it, eventually. Everything culminated into a cockamamie scheme where Kite was holding a sheet and Ging had a long, wooden spoon from the kitchen, and somehow, Ging used that to make the cat jump in the sheet, and Kite wrapped him up in it, making sure to maneuver his head into the open so he would be less ‘scared’. It actually made it easier for the cat to show his particular distaste for Kite and Ging, hissing and looking generally distraught. After the cat was contained, they walked silently down to where Kurapika was waiting in his car.

Kurapika had seemed livid. He refused to speak to them outside of what was absolutely necessary, muttering around breath bitterly as Kite struggled to keep the cat wrapped up, aided by Ging. He sat in the car when they went in, saying that he would wait for them to get done.  

Gon had petted most of the dogs in the waiting room. The vet had a ‘daycare,’ and it was just letting out while they were waiting, so it was a constant parade of dogs leaving the building. Gon was enjoying it. Ging seemed impatient, trying to stop his son from bothering too many of the office’s patrons. Kite was still holding the cat; they had decided it would be unwise for him to release the bundle now that he had it. If the cat got loose in the vet, it would be a disaster. Granted, it seemed like the cat had settled down, a least a little. He had stopped hissing and struggle, but he still looked vaguely annoyed. Eventually, one of the nurses called them back, and they were directed into a small room with an examination table and a desk with a sink built in. They waited for about five minutes before a vet entered the room and began the examination.

They left after forty minutes. The diagnosis wasn’t grave; the vet told them that the cat was emaciated and had fleas, but he didn’t have rabies or anything like that. With a little bit of care, he would be _fine._ So, after they had paid and gotten back into the car, Kurapika drove them to a pet store, and Ging and Gon (and an irritated Kurapika who insisted on going, for some reason) went in to try and find all the things they would need to keep the cat, including the medicine for the fleas and some food and, fortunately, a little traveling crate where the cat could be transported. Kite didn’t realize how sore his arms had gotten until he stopped clutching the bundle of fabric and cat.

When they got back to the apartment, Gon was drowsy and dragging, so Ging got him started on his bedtime routine. Kite stayed in the living room, crouching by the little crate sitting in living room. The cat was huddled in the back of the crate, still looking annoyed but not quite as scared anymore. Kite glanced up as Ging walked up, sitting down next to him.

“Should we let it out overnight?” Ging asked, chewing at him bottom lip thoughtfully. “I mean, we’ll close Gon’s door, but maybe it still isn’t a good idea.” Kite hummed.

“I don’t know. It’s up to you.”

“Gon wants to name him Snowflake,” Ging muttered. “Is that a boy name?”

“Well, it’s not a girl name,” Kite said blandly. “It’s a… weather term.”

“I was going go with it, anyway,” Ging replied, shrugging. “It’s cute. That cat is giving me a death stare, though. I think it wants me dead. If we let him out, he’ll probably come in my room at night and smother me with my pillow. He sees I’m weak.” He gestured to his cast. Kite laughed.

“Maybe. But how would it pick up the pillow in the first place. It doesn’t have thumbs.”

“Whatever.”

“Does that mean we’re not going to let it out?”

“Nah. I think we should,” Ging said. “He looks sad.” Kite didn’t respond, standing and stretching out. He could hear Gon finishing up in the bathroom.

“We should probably wait until Gon is in bed.”

“Yeah. You’re right,” Ging muttered, sticking his finger inside the grate. Kite turned to shoot him down with a critical look. (Was he a child?) Then he sighed, crossing his arms and standing behind Ging, watching as the man childishly tried to stick his finger into Snowflake’s fur. Kite furrowed his brows.

“Why are we naming him Snowflake? He’s grey,” he questioned. Ging shrugged. Gon came out of the bathroom, ready for bed, and Ging got up to go and tuck him in. Kite sat back down in front of the crate, crossing his legs and looking past the metal grate at Snowflake, who was still huddled against the back wall. He hummed. “Hey. It’s going to be okay,” he muttered softly, feeling stupid for talking to a cat. “You should try to relax.”

“Are you talking to a cat?” Ging asked judgmentally, emerging from Gon’s room and shutting the door behind him. “Bro.” Kite glared at him.

“Are we going to let him out?”

“Yeah…” Ging trailed off, crouching next to him. They both stared down at the crate. Ging cleared his throat, shifting his weight around as he glanced over at Kite. “Okay. I’m going to open the door. Maybe you should- I don’t know, back up. Yeah; that’s good. Okay. I’m going to open it.” Ging swung open the door and then jumped back, crouching cautiously and watching the crate intently. Snowflake didn’t come out, still huddled against the wall and glaring out at them with suspicious eyes.

“He’s not coming out,” Kite stated. “Okay. I’m going to bed. Were you going to shower?”

“Oh. Um. No. I mean, yeah. I guess.” Ging seemed disappointed. “Gotta- gotta go to work tomorrow morning, so I guess I gotta shower and stuff.”

“Alright. You go ahead and get started. I’m going to go change into my pajamas and then I’ll come in there to make sure you don’t slip.” Ging hummed, walking off towards the bathroom. Kite went into his bedroom, and changed into his pajamas before going over and sitting down outside the bathroom door. He figured there was no harm in allowing Ging a little privacy at this point; he was going to be at work all alone tomorrow, after all. Kite closed his eyes, resting his head back against the wall. It felt like it had been an incredibly long day. Suddenly, he felt something furry brush up against him.

He opened his eyes slowly, easing head so he could look down. Snowflake had just brushed up against his arm, big, fluffy tail sticking straight up in the air. The cat brushed up against his leg, and then walked a few feet away, sitting down and looking up at Kite with big hazel eyes. They stared at each other. After a few moments, Ging burst out of the bathroom, dressed in his sleepwear, causing both Kite and Snowflake to jump. Then Snowflake scurried off.

“Oh my God! Was that- Snowflake! Come back!” the man exclaimed, hurrying into the living room. “Damn. He’s gone. Where’d he go?”

“He probably ran away because you’re loud,” Kite muttered, following him. “Did you have a good shower?” Ging looked at him incredulously.

“Kite, how can you be so calm? Snowflake was trying to _communicate_ with you,” he said exaggeratedly. “We have to find him!” Kite looked unimpressed. “ _Kite!_ ”

“You should try to calm down. You’re worse than Gon,” Kite retorted. “Why don’t you put out some food, and then go to bed? Maybe in the morning, Snowflake will be more comfortable and come out.” Ging fixed him with another incredulous look.

“But we have to make him feel comfortable.”

“Ging, you’re probably stressing him out. Leaving him alone to get used to the apartment is probably the best course of action.”

“But that’s not what we did with you!”

“Oh my God. I’m going to bed.”

“ _Kite!_ ”

“Goodnight Ging.”

“Okay.” Ging looked disappointed. “I guess we’ll try- try your idea. ‘Night, Kite.” They parted ways for the night, leaving Snowflake to his own resources.

 

x-x

 

Kite woke up to the feeling of a mass resting on his chest, claws digging into his shoulder, and the sound of Ging cooing from the doorway. He opened his eyes groggily, quickly noting that Snowflake was perched on his chest, ears down as he looked towards the door anxiously. Kite lifted his head to look at the door. Ging was standing there, looking altogether pleased and holding his phone like he had just taken a picture, while holding Gon back from running in the room and assaulting the frightened-looking cat. Kite groaned, reaching up his hand to swipe at his bangs.

“Did you just take a picture of me while I was sleeping?” he questioned. Ging made a quick escape. Snowball did as well, launching off Kite’s chest and scurrying underneath the desk, huddling in the corner where he thought no one could see him. Kite sat up, rubbing at his shoulder where the cat had dug in before standing and walking into the living room. Ging and Gon were getting ready to leave for the day, and it took Kite a few moments to recall that it was Ging’s first day back to work.

After all the goodbyes were said, Ging and Gon left, and Kite was left alone in the apartment. Alone, except for Snowflake. After checking to make sure the door was locked, Kite walked back to his room, crouching down to see if Snowflake was still huddled in the corner. He was gone. Kite sighed and went back to the kitchen, making a bowl of cereal and sitting down at the kitchen table to eat it. About halfway through his meal, Snowflake jumped up on the table, sitting down across the expanse and staring at him unblinkingly. He didn’t meow. He didn’t move. He just stared at him with wide, hazel eyes. Kite stared back, spoon half-raised to his mouth. A few pieces of cereal dropped off, splashing into the bowl anticlimactically.

“Hey,” Kite muttered finally, softly placing the spoon back into the bowl. They kept staring at one another. Then, the deafening silence was interrupted by a knock on the door. They both jumped, and then Kite stood, stalking over to the door as quietly as possible and peering out the peephole. Shoot was outside, looking distraught and checking his phone. Kite furrowed his brows, but then pulled open the door anyway, silently waiting for some sort of explanation.

“Thank God you’re here,” Shoot said, and Kite would have thought he was being overdramatic if he didn’t sound so relieved. “Can I come in? I didn’t really know where else to go.”

“Um. Sure.” Kite stepped back, letting Shoot walk in. Wordlessly, they walked over to the kitchen table. Snowflake had disappeared, so Kite pulled out the chair across from the one he had been occupying and then sat down in front of his cereal bowl again. After a few minutes of silence, he started to eat, slowly, again. “Oh. Do you want something? A drink… food?” Shoot shook his head exaggeratedly, before sighing and hiding his eyes behind his hand.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Kite,” he said. “I wasn’t sure who else I could talk to.”

“Did something happen?” Kite questioned, setting down his spoon.

“Yeah…” Shoot trailed off. “Is that a- a cat?” Snowflake was crouching on the counter behind them. Kite turned, looking at the feline.

“Yeah.”

“Ugh. I love cats.” Shoot suddenly looked conflicted. “Ugh! Could this be any more complicated? Damnit!” He made a strangled sobbing sound, and Kite jumped minutely, eyes wide.

“Oh.”

“I think I messed up.”

“Did- did you want to talk about it? I don’t mind… listening.” Kite cleared his throat awkwardly, folding his arms and resting them on the table. Shoot looked conflicted again.

“I guess,” he said, and Kite wondered why he sounded so put-upon, given the fact that he had come to the apartment for _some_ reason. “Knuckle and I had a fight.” Kite blinked. He didn’t know that much about the two, but they seemed close. He tried to look sympathetic.

“Oh. I’m sorry. That’s rough… buddy.”

“Yeah. I- well, I told him that I was thinking about going to school,” Shoot continued. “You remember last night, when we were talking about that? Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. That maybe it’d be better, if I did. My dad wants me to, and it feels like everyone I know is going to college. So I’ve been trying to convince myself that it’d be for the best, and I thought I finally had. Then, when I told Knuckle, he got angry. He said I was lying to myself and that I was just giving into pressure and that it wasn’t what I wanted.”

“But… is it what you want?”

“I don’t know!” Shoot exclaimed. “It- it’s what everyone else tells me I should want!” Kite swallowed, unsure of what to say to comfort him. He wasn’t sure what the solution was; on one hand, he had always wanted to go to college himself (he had barely made it through high school. With his circumstances, college would have been impossible). However, he wasn’t sure if college was a viable option for Shoot either. Shoot was a ‘free spirit’ of sorts, from what Kite could tell; he didn’t appreciate the conventions of the world, but college wasn’t just a convention. It was an advantage.

“What did you want to do before you decided to go to school?” Kite asked. Shoot blinked, looking confused.

“I just want to… I don’t know. I guess I wanted to keep working at the record shop and- and working on my band, but, man, that’s not a real career,” he said. Kite frowned, looking down at the table. Then he sighed, shrugging.

“I don’t know. I- I don’t really know what to say,” he said. “I’ve never really had these sorts of problems, so I’m really just unsure of how to help you.”

“Well,” Shoot said, clearing his throat. “I can go… but it’s sort of nice, to have someone just to listen. I can’t really talk to my dad; I mean, he would listen, but I never feel like he understands. And usually I talk to- I talk to Knuckle, but I _can’t;_ I think he hates me, now.”

“I don’t mind listening,” Kite clarified. “And I _highly_ doubt Knuckle hates you. You’re… you’re friends, right? A little fight isn’t going to change anything.” Shoot swallowed, looking somewhere indistinct behind Kite, like he didn’t want to meet Kite’s eyes. Kite noticed a different instantly. Shoot had tensed, shoulder going rigid and back a little straighter. His skin had paled, somehow, a greyish pallor that revealed his anxiety. After a few minutes, Shoot spoke, and his voice was low and nervous, painted with an unusual tone.

“I said something,” he said. “That I shouldn’t have. To Knuckle. Earlier. He wouldn’t say anything else. He wouldn’t even look at me. I- he’s angry. I know he is. I didn’t even realize I said it. It was an accident. This whole thing is just _one big accident!_ ” And then he started to cry, eyes hidden behind his palm and he slumped forward. Kite didn’t know what to do.

He wanted to hug him, to tell him it would be alright, but he wasn’t sure. What had Shoot said? It couldn’t have been _that_ bad, but maybe Knuckle really _was_ angry. Kite had only ever met Knuckle once, and he had seemed like a pretty nice guy, a little too confident maybe, and perhaps a little more raucous than Kite usually preferred, but most of all, he had noted that Knuckle and Shoot had seemed like best friends. Close. Open. Like puzzle-pieces that fit together perfectly. They were two sides of a coin; they seemed to complete each other. He reached across the table awkwardly, resting a hand of Shoot’s shoulder and patting it slowly.

“It’ll be alright,” he said. “You and Knuckle are really close. I only met Knuckle once, but I know that you two are good friends. You’ll work it out.”

“We weren’t always friends,” Shoot said bitter, swiping at his eyes and then looking off to the side, off into the living room. “We used to just sort of- sort of knew each other. We didn’t really get along. But- well, I’m not going to bother you with a bunch of stuff. I just don’t want to go back to how it was. Knuckle is- he means a lot to me.”

“Then you’ll work it out.”

“God! You keep saying that,” Shoot shouted, pulling at his hair. He’s eyes were ringed with red, and more tears were welling at the bottom, threatening to spill over. “But maybe it won’t! Listen. I- I told him that I- that I _love him_. That I love him more than anyone else… and that I wanted to- to be with him. I don’t want to college because I don’t want to _leave him_! And- and I don’t think I can do it, Kite!” Kite stopped, freezing. The tears spilled over.

Shoot _loved_ Knuckle. He _loved_ him more than someone usually loved a friend, Kite could tell, just from the inflection of his voice. And that was out of Kite’s league; he couldn’t offer Shoot any advice; he couldn’t tell him it would be okay, because he didn’t _know_. He didn’t know what it was like to be in that position. He didn’t know what it was like to _love_ someone. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I just don’t know what to do!”

“You… told him that?”

“I’m such a dumbass.”

“No you’re not.” Kite tried to keep his voice even, to be reassuring. “I can’t really help you. I don’t know what it’s like. But I want to help, and I can listen, and I’ll- I’ll do anything to help fix whatever’s wrong. Did you try talking to Knuckle? Maybe- maybe he likes you too?” His words sounded childish and to his own ears. ‘Likes.’ It was such a stupid way to phrase it. Like they were little kids in elementary school playing house and holding hands. Shoot just sighed, covering up his eyes again as he laid heavily against the tabletop.

“I’m such an idiot,” he muttered, words muffled by his shirt sleeve. “God. I’m such an idiot.” Kite wanted to run away, to go call Ging on the phone and ask him what to do. Ging would know what to do. Kurapika would know what to do. Hell, Gon would probably know what to do, but Kite had no clue. He felt helpless and strangled, like he was choking on air. He searched his brain for the right words, but he couldn’t find anything suitable. Nothing appropriate. Nothing ‘right.’ Shoot had wanted to talk, had reached out, and Kite was worthless. Useless. Nothing would come from Shoot’s trouble. He would have been better off talking to a wall.

“I’m so sorry,” Kite muttered softly. Shoot looked up, not bothering to wipe away the tear tracks staining his cheeks.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he said. “I just don’t know what to say to him. He wasn’t talking; he wouldn’t look at me. Knuckle is always so open and easy to read. I- I always really liked him because of that. I never felt like I might- might hurt his feelings or offend him without knowing. I never had to had to worry about being stupid. About being _myself._ And now I’ve ruined everything.” He looked almost despondent, and it worried Kite.

“Did you say anything to him,” he asked. “About what you said, I mean?” Again, the words felt clumsy and unhelpful on his tongue. Shoot shook his head.

“After a few minutes, I just sort of left. He wasn’t _talking,_ Kite; Knuckle never stops talking,” he said. “Even if he’s angry, he’ll yell… or cause a fuss… or tell me what’s wrong. He just shut himself off. I don’t know what to do.”

“You should- should talk to him,” Kite replied after a moment, but he still felt uncertain. Was there was right answer? “Try to work it out. This is just a bump in the road; don’ know away your friendship because of it. You can work it out if you- you work together.” What trite garbage. Kite swallowed stiffly, shifting in his seat and looking down at his folded hands on the table.

“Do you think?” Shoot’s answer took him by surprise. He wasn’t sure what he expected. For Shoot to laugh at him, maybe. For Shoot to leave, maybe.

“I guess,” he said awkwardly. “It’s important to- to talk through your problems. I guess. You shouldn’t throw away a friendship like that. I could tell you two were really close; don’t lose that over something you can fix.”

“You’re right,” Shoot said slowly, scrubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. “Maybe- maybe I’ll go now. Do you think I should go now?”

“Yes?” Kite said cautiously. Shoot nodded, standing up from the table and walking towards the foyer with a surprising amount of determination. Kite stood quickly, trailing after him.

“Thanks, Kite,” Shoot said as he pulled over the door. “Thanks for listening. It means a lot.” And then he left. Kite closed the door, locking it absently before walking back to the kitchen. He plopped down in the chair had been occupying before, staring down at the kitchen tiles. He jumped when a fluffy grey mass jumped up onto the table in front of him, feathery tail curling up in the air. Kite blinked, looking at Snowflake curiously. The cat looked back at him.

“I don’t think I’m a very good listener,” he said, before reproaching himself. Why was he talking to a cat? “What do you think? Did you… um… need something? Why are you looking at me like that?” Snowflake didn’t reply, watching Kite curiously as he sat down, eyes never leaving him. Kite shook his head, traipsing off into a different part of the house. He wasn’t going to start talking to a cat.

Kite didn’t realize the door had opened. He was trying to pull Gon’s blocks out from underneath the coach, crouching down and reaching under. Snowflake was standing next to him, and he had started talking to him without realizing.

“Oh my God. It’s so dusty. Why don’t you take a turn dusting, huh?” he muttered. “Everyone else takes turns. You don’t get out of it just because you’re a cat.” He jumped when he heard laughter, yanking his arm out from underneath the couch. Ging was standing at the edge of the foyer, loosening his tie and wearing an amused expression, while Gon was sitting in the foyer, pulling off his shoes. Ging smiled, shaking his head.

“Are you talking to cats now?” he said. “I knew you weren’t right, Kite, but wow.” He chuckled again, walking off into his bedroom before Kite had the opportunity to defend himself. After a few moments, Gon ran into the living room, looking ecstatic.

“Is Snowflake being nice?” he exclaimed, trying to grab the cat before Kite could react. Snowflake scurried off. “Oh no! He’s running away!” The child chased after his prey, still wearing a frighteningly enthusiastic expression. Kite sighed, dropping the block onto the carpet and moving to the couch, wondering if Shoot’s talk with Knuckle had gone well.

The closest thing he had to a friend like that was Ging. Him and Ging were sort of like that, he supposed. It was different though. Ging had saved his life. He was practically in his debt. No. He was definitely in his debt. But then Kite thought of all those nights, sitting on the couch and watching some television show, or making soup, or when they made the cake for the bake sale. Maybe Ging wasn’t just his savior. Maybe him and Ging were best friends. Best friends watched television and made soup and cakes, and spent time together. If Kite and Ging weren’t friends, then what were they? And he felt comfortable around Ging. It felt different to be around Ging.

Kite mind raced suddenly. No. Shoot _loved_ Knuckle, as more than a friend. He said he wanted to stay with Knuckle forever, that he couldn’t imagine leaving him, and he didn’t think he could do it by himself. ‘ _That I love him more than anyone else… and that I wanted to- to be with him. I don’t want to college because I don’t want to leave him_.’ Shoot’s words echoed in his mind, and Kite frowned. No. Him and Ging were friends. However, it wasn’t the same as Knuckle and Shoot. But then Kite tried to imagine his life without Ging, and he couldn’t. He couldn’t imagine living without Ging, moving forward on his own, all alone in the big, cold world. He couldn’t imagine leaving Ging behind.

It was a frightening feeling that was stirring in the pit of his stomach.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Sorry about the long gap between chapters. I was having a difficult time writing this chapter, and I didn't want to post something shorter than normal or something I was unsure of. From now on, the gaps may be a little longer than they were before. Thanks again to my beta Abby (@TwelfthPaldi). If you have any comments or suggestions, please leave them below! Thanks again for reading!


	13. A New Chapter

That night, it stormed. Kite was woken up by the sound of thunder around three o’clock, and he lay in his bed blinking and watching lightning flashes illuminate the ceiling of his bedroom for a few moments. After those few moments, he sat up, leaning against his headboard. He noted that the living room light was on, illuminating the cracks of his door. Lightning flashed again, thunder rolling. Kite swung his legs over the side of his bed, walking over to the window and peering out into the darkness.

Rain was pounding against the glass, and the sky was dark. The only thing illuminating the world was the streetlights below, but even those seemed ineffective against the storm. Kite sighed; it felt like such a long time since he had moved in with Ging. He tried to remember what it felt like to be out in the storm, with the lightning flashing directly overhead and the rain beating down on his head and shoulders. It wasn’t that he didn’t remember. He did, but it felt vague and dreamlike, like something he imagined. It wasn’t imagined, though. It was five long years of his life. Five unbearable, nightmarish years. So, how could a month living with Ging overwrite that?

He heard his door open, and he turned around to see Ging standing in the doorway. “Hey, Ging,” he said, walking towards him. “I didn’t know it was supposed to storm.” Ging shrugged, walking further into the room before stopping.

“Yeah, me neither. It woke Gon up, though. Ha. I probably would have just slept right through,” he said, chuckling. “But he just dozed off again, in there with me. I was just coming to check up on you. Did the thunder wake you up, too?”

“I guess,” Kite muttered. “It’s a pretty bad storm. Have you checked the weather?” Ging just shrugged again

“I checked on my phone,” he said. Thunder echoed again, and it seemed as if it shook the whole apartment building. Ging glanced back towards his room, presumably to check if Gon had roused at the sound. There was no indication that he had. “So. You’re alright though?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Okay. Well. I’m going back to sleep, if I can. See you in the morning, Kite.” Ging smiled, and Kite smiled back, and then Ging slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Kite retreated to his bed, laying down and staring up at the ceiling.

He remembered some of the younger children at the orphanage being afraid of thunder. As he grew older, the younger children started coming to him when they were afraid, but he never knew how to comfort them. He felt terrible when he had to go and get Mrs. Morow so she could calm them down; he was never able to calm any of the children down, never able to comfort them when they were afraid. He wondered if any of them missed him when he left; probably not, since he was never able to help them. Sure, he played with them when he could, and read stories to the little kids at night, but he could never _help_ them, because in the end, he was just as helpless as they were. He regretted that he was never able to help them.

Maybe he should go back, to see Mrs. Morow. To tell her that he was alive. She was always a sweet woman, harried and overstretched but kind. Generous, even though she didn’t have much. She always insisted the children go to school, get an education. She said an education was the only thing you could never lose. Kite rolled onto his side, watching the clock as it turned from three twenty-two to three twenty-three.

He didn’t want to go back to the orphanage. He didn’t want to remember. Even with the storm, Kite was looking forward to the morning, to the future. The orphanage was the past, was the darkness, was a fading memory of a time he was long-passed. He was looking forward to his future, his future with Ging and Gon, and he didn’t want to remember the time before.

And he knew that was silly, unwise even. There would be a time when he would leave, when he would go back into the world and stop hiding in the comfort of a borrowed home. He knew that Ging wouldn’t kick him out; Ging had said that he wanted him to stay, but Kite also knew that he couldn’t stay forever. Hell, Ging might even remarry one day, or find someone he wanted to be with romantically, and then Kite _couldn’t_ stay. He couldn’t interfere in Ging’s life, not after everything Ging had done for him, all the kindness and understanding. He knew it, but he didn’t want to. He couldn’t even imagine it. His mind flashed back to Shoot’s words, and he remembered how he couldn’t even conceptualize leaving Ging. Of course, he would have to, eventually, but he just couldn’t imagine how. How could his life go on, after he felt what home was supposed to feel like? How could he move on to a future without one?

And Ging. He didn’t want to leave Ging. Ging, who was so kind, who held Gon’s hand as he walked him to school, who Kite made soup with and watched television with and laughed with and played in the rain with. Ging, who had lost his wife and made mistakes but worked so hard to make up for it. Ging, who didn’t need him. But Kite needed Ging, so he didn’t want to leave, to go back into the cold, dark world all alone and fight it with no one by his side.

Was that how Shoot felt? Could he not imagine his life without Knuckle? Did he know Knuckle’s struggles, and remember all the times they spent together when he thought about leaving? There had to be something different. He rolled back onto his back, closing his eyes and keeping them squinted shut. Outside, the storm raged on, a symphony of thunder rolls and lightning cracks, the rain still pounding on the window panes like bullets instead of water. He drifted off to the sounds.

In the morning, he woke up to a new sound, the sounds of shattering glass from the kitchen. He sat up, staving off sleep quickly and blundering into the kitchen.

“Damnit.” He heard Ging mutter from the kitchen. As he rounded the corner, he saw the man squatting down by a mass of shattered glass that Kite vaguely recognized as one of their glass cups. Ging was absentmindedly grabbing at the glass, and Kite was about to warn him to be careful when Ging drew blood. “Damnit!” he exclaimed again, before looking up at the sound of someone approaching. He looked relieved that it wasn’t Gon.

“Are you okay?” Kite questioned. “You cut yourself.”

“Ugh. I know. Hold on. Let me get this up,” Ging said. He seemed exasperated. “Gon’s getting his stuff together; I was trying to get him some breakfast.” Kite nodded, walking over to the fridge and pulling out the broom. He started sweeping up the glass.

“Go ahead and wash off your hand. I’ll help you put a bandage on it and then we can get some breakfast for Gon,” he told Ging. “Did it cut deep?”

“No. It’s not too bad,” Ging replied, walking over to the sink and rinsing off the cut. “Thanks for getting that.” Kite recalled a previous night with broken glass and Ging leaning against the counter and yelling at him; did Ging’s lack of argument mean he was better, mentally?

“It’s not a problem,” Kite said. “Mornings are always hectic. I’m glad I can help out.” After he disposed of the glass, him and Ging walked into the bathroom, where Kite pulled out the first-aid kit. It was another familiar scene, in a way, but instead of Ging bandaging Kite’s shoulder, Kite was dabbing at Ging’s hand with the antiseptic.

“Damn, I can’t believe I cut myself,” Ging muttered, shifting impatiently. He wiggled his hand in Kite’s grasp, and Kite huffed, holding it tighter as he finished wiping it with the antiseptic. “This sucks. It’s going to be stingy all day, and I’m already working without one of my arms.”

“You’ll be alright,” Kite said, nonplussed, glancing up at Ging. Ging was pouting, dark eyelashes brushing against his cheek as he watched Kite’s work on his hand. Kite froze, fingers growing sweaty where he was holding onto Ging’s warm hand. Ging’s skin was soft underneath his fingertips, rough in a way, but warm and smooth in another. Kite shook himself, giving the cut one last swipe before pulling out the Band-Aids and covering the wound.

“Thanks, man,” Ging said cheerfully. “I appreciate the help. Hey, I better go make Gon’s breakfast. You want something?”

“Oh. Yes, please.”

“No problem, Kit Kite.” Ging left the bathroom, walking back into kitchen. Kite stood in the bathroom for a few moments, glancing at himself in the kitchen. What was he doing? He shoved the first-aid kit back underneath the counter before heading back to the kitchen. Ging was pouring out a couple of glasses of orange juice, and Kite could smell that he was making toast. Gon had emerged from his bedroom, sitting at one of the kitchen chairs and swinging his legs cheerfully, bobbing his head to some invisible music.

“Good morning, Gon,” Kite said, smiling fondly. He grabbed the orange juices off the counter and ferried them over to the table. “Do you need any help there, Ging?” At that moment, the toast popped up, and Ging shook his head.

“Nope. I’m good. See, even with an arm out of commission, I’m still a master chef. Butter, Kite?”

“Yeah. That’s good. Thank you, Ging.”

“Yeah, thanks Daddy!” Ging walked over to the table, sitting down a toast in front of Gon before balancing the other two on his arms and returning to his spot. He sat one down for Kite before biting into his own. Gon had already dug in.

“So. You looking forward to a good day at school, buddy?” Ging asked. Gon nodded, smiling as he took off on a high-speed explanation of all the things he was excited about. Kite sipped at his orange juice, watching the child talk animatedly. He looked down at the table, memorizing the grain of the wood. Him and Shoot were nothing alike, especially when it came to Ging and Knuckle. He loved Ging, yes, but it wasn’t the same. Shoot loved Knuckle is an entirely different way, romantically. Ging and Gon had become Kite’s family, and that wasn’t even to mention the more obvious differences.

Knuckle and Shoot were the same age, practically. There was a few years separating them, but it was minimal, really, in the end. Ging was older than him, and his wife had passed away a few years prior. He was helping Kite because he was kind. Kite loved him like family, because over the past month that’s what they had become. But Ging wasn’t like a father to him, or like a brother. Kite couldn’t pinpoint what Ging was to him, and with every passing moment, with his mind racing, he became more and more concerned. He glanced up at Ging, where the man was chewing on his toast thoughtfully, the slice of bread still held in his hand. They made eye contact.

“You okay there, Kite?” Ging questioned. “You look worried.” Kite shook his head quickly, blinking to get rid of any worry creasing his face.

“No, I’m fine. I was just- just thinking about something.”

“Ah. Okay. Well. You know you can talk to me, if you ever want to.”

“Thanks. I’m fine though, really,” Kite assured him. “Oh. You two better take off, or you’ll be late to work. You know, I can probably handle taking Gon to school, if you want me to.” Ging waved him off.

“Eh. It’s no big deal,” he said. “But you’re right. We _should_ probably get going. Alright Gon, get your stuff. You gotta go get an education.”

“Yay!” Gon seemed thrilled, racing off to his bedroom to pick up his backpack. Ging just chuckled, stacking up his and Gon’s plates and putting them in the sink. After that, he walked off into his room to find his jacket. Kite took his own plate over to the sink and rinsed it off. He realized the rain from the night had stopped. A dark covering of grey still masked the sky, but the thunder and lightning and faded away to distant memories.

He was glad that Ging and Gon wouldn’t have to walk in the rain, but he still made sure that Gon was armed with a raincoat and that Ging didn’t forget to take an umbrella before they left. After the door shut, he was left with nothing but silence.

He tried to keep himself busy. He loaded the dishes into the dish washer and took out the trash. Then he filled up Snowflake’s dish and refilled his water. Kite hadn’t seen Snowflake yet, that morning, and he vaguely wondered where the cat was hiding. He wondered if the storm had scared the cat, and if that was the reason he was hiding away. Kite started looking for him.

He wasn’t anywhere in the living room, or kitchen. He was about to go and search Gon’s room when he was interrupted by a knock on the door. He furrowed his brow, straightening out and walking over to the door, peering out the peephole. Shoot was standing outside the door, hand in his pocket and looking unimpressed. Kite opened the door, and Shoot perked up.

“Hey Kite,” he said.

“Hey Shoot,” Kite replied, before pulling open the door farther so Shoot could walk in. “How- how are you doing?”

“Ugh, you won’t believe this,” Shoot said dramatically, walking over to the kitchen table and sitting down. Kite followed after him, sitting down across from him. “So I went to talk to Knuckle, right? Can you guess what he said?”

“Um. No?”

“I told him what I told you,” Shoot said. “And… well, he said that he wanted to try. He said that he hadn’t ever really thought about guys before, but that he did like me. He said that he wanted to try! We’re going to on a date later today. A _date_!”

“Oh. I’m so glad for you two,” Kite said, blinking. “What are you going to do?”

“God, I don’t know!” Shoot laughed. “I have to figure that out. And what do you think I should wear? I’m _super_ unprepared…” he trailed off, looking thoughtful. Kite didn’t reply. He hadn’t known Shoot very long, but in that short time, Kite had never seen him look so happy. It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulder.

“How did you know?” Kite blurted out. “That you liked Knuckle like that.”

“Oh. Hmm. I don’t know,” Shoot frowned, humming. “I guess I just sort of realized, after a while. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t want to be without him. I wanted to spend more time with him, and I kept trying to imagine what it would be like if I didn’t know him, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t imagine going on without him. You know?”

“Yeah,” Kite muttered. Shoot was smiling again.

“Well, I guess I better go. I just wanted to stop by and let you know what happened,” he said. “I have to figure out what I’m going to do know. Ha! I can’t actually believe this is happening!” He stood up, making his way back to the foyer, and Kite followed him. They said their goodbyes, and then Shoot left with promises of returning to tell him about the date. Kite shut the door behind him, and he was left in silence again.

 

x-x

 

Kite walked to the school about forty minutes sooner than necessary. The silence had grown deafening. Outside, he could hear the traffic, and there was a clock in the bookshelf that _tick-tick-ticked,_ but other than that, it was just him and his thoughts.

Snowflake had disappeared somewhere in the apartment, and Kite felt like it would be an invasion of privacy to track him down; how would Kite feel, if somebody tried to find him when he just wanted to be alone? Going to get Gon was a pleasant distraction from being alone. That is, until he ran into Kurapika waiting outside the classroom. The blond fixed him with a sharp look as he approached.

“How’s that cat you and Ging so rudely called me about the other day?” he asked. Kite paused, trying to decide what to say, and Kurapika took that as a cue to continue. “That’s very irresponsible, you know. You have no idea where that cat has been! What if it scratched Gon?”

“It doesn’t want anything to do with Gon,” Kite retorted quickly. “And the vet said Snowflake was fine. He doesn’t have rabies or anything.” Kurapika huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. He turned his head to look at Kite critically again.

“Well. If you say so,” the blond muttered. “Ah. Killua’s piano recital is next week. He wants Gon to come and see him play. I’m sure he’s already told Gon, but I felt like I should let one of his parent figures know. So, it’ll be next Tuesday at five-thirty. You can make it, right? It’s silly, but I know Killua would be disappointed if Gon wasn’t there.” Kite nodded. Was he one of Gon’s parent figures?  Not really. But he wasn’t going to argue with Kurapika.

“I don’t think that should be a problem,” he said. “I’m sure Gon will want to hear him play.”

“Good, good.” Kurapika seemed pleased. “I feel like we haven’t really spoken lately. How have you been?” Kite paused. How had he been?

“I’m good,” he said. “How have you been? I- I think you’re right. We haven’t really talked much.”

“Ah. I’ve been okay. Things with Leorio-” He paused mid-sentence, like he was rethinking his words. “Well. I won’t bother you. What about Ging? He should be back at work by now; has he said anything about how that’s been? No trouble, I hope.”

“Oh. Today was his first day back.”

“Hm. That’s good. I hope things go well for him,” Kurapika said genuinely. “I know I can be _hard_ on him, but it’s only because I care. Even with things like that- that cat. I only get after him because I’m worried. I hope you understand. I’m really not such a bitter, petty person.” He mentioned Snowflake, but Kite wondered if he was thinking of something else. The conversation was similar to their other; it wasn’t that Kurapika hated him. He only worried about Ging. Kite smiled.

“I know,” he said. “I get worried about him too. He’s not very bright.” Kurapika laughed.

“You are funny, when you want to be,” he said. “You know, I don’t believe I’ve told you this. I’m glad, that you’re staying with Ging and Gon. I feel like you’ve been- been a very positive influence in their lives. It’s almost like Ging is remembering what it’s like to have a family. Of course, Gon has always been there. But Ging forgot what it was like to have someone else there. I’m glad he’s remembering.”

“He told me it was hard, after his wife died,” Kite replied softly.

“Yes. Well. That isn’t an excuse to drop the ball,” Kurapika said. “We have to keep pushing forward. I’m glad you’re giving him an incentive to do so.”

“I’m glad, if you think I’m helping.” Despite his words, Kite felt like Kurapika was being harsh; he had sat with Ging, that night, and listened to him. It was obvious that something was broken in Ging, something was would probably never heal. Ging loved Gon, and he ‘loved’ Kite, but there was a wall still built up inside of him that wouldn’t break down just because of a little extra company and another person to think about. Kurapika hummed.

“I think you are.” The hour changed, and the children were released from their classroom. After Gon and Killua were retrieved, they walked down to the front of the school, and Kurapika stopped, resting his hands on Killua’s shoulder as he turned to face Kite and Gon. Gon had already latched himself onto Kite’s hand, swinging his arm back and forth and back and forth. “Gon, did Killua tell you his news?” Kurapika asked. Gon was still beaming, but he looked confused.

“Nope!” he said. Killua cheeks had flushed as annoyance spread over his features.

“Ugh, Kurapika! I’m not telling him!” he pouted.

“Ah. Well. I will. Killua wants you to come to his piano recital next Tuesday, so you can hear him play. Would you like to come?”

“Oh, boy, really?” Gon exclaimed, looking ecstatic. “I’ve always wanted to go to a piano recital! Kite, we can go, right? We can go hear Killua play?” Kite wasn’t sure when Gon’s desire to go to a piano recital developed, but he smiled at Gon’s enthusiasm anyway.

“I don’t see why not,” he said. “We’ll have to ask your dad, but there shouldn’t be any problem.” Gon looked even more ecstatic, bouncing up and down on his heels and pulling Kite’s arm with him.

“I’m so excited! If you say we can go, that means we can!” he announced. “Ooh, Killua, I’m so excited! I’ve never got to hear to you play piano before!” Killua’s face reddened more, but he nodded despite his petulant expression.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. Kurapika chuckled to himself, like he enjoyed embarrassing his son. He probably did. They said their goodbyes and parted ways. Gon and Kite set off towards the apartment, still holding hands.

“I’m super excited about Killua’s piano thing,” Gon informed him. “Do you think he’ll be the very best or not very good? I’m still going to clap, either way. Killua is my best friend. You’ll clap too, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” Kite said. “It’s hard to learn piano. I tried and I was really bad at it. It doesn’t really matter if Killua is good or not, only if he’s trying to get better. That’s what counts.” Gon nodded his agreement firmly.

“That’s right. Just like Daddy.”

“What?”

“He’s trying to get better all the time, right?” Gon asked, looking up at Kite. “You are too, right?” Kite was a little confused, but he assumed that they were. Everybody was trying to be better. To be better at something. To be better people.

“Yeah. Everyone always tries to be better,” he said. Gon just blinked, still looking up at him. Kite couldn’t help but notice that some of Gon’s enthusiasm had faded, replaced by an uncharacteristic expression. Gon looked worried. “Why do you ask?” Kite questioned.

Gon smiled again, like the worry had never been there, giggling and swinging Kite’s arm back and forth again. “Nothing! What are we eating for dinner? I’m hungry. For snack today, we only had _grapes._ I really like grapes, but I’m hungry!” Kite thought for a moment.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. Gon didn’t seem phased. He started humming, swinging his hand in time with some made-up, nonsensical tune. Kite watched him, wondering what caused the worry that crossed over his face. He tried to think of a way to ask Gon, but he couldn’t contrive any way to fit it into natural conversation. The last thing he wanted was to make Gon feel like there was some reason he should be worried. They reached the apartment before he thought of anything.

Once they were inside, Gon sprinted off to his room, and Kite walked into the kitchen. He wondered if they had any suitable snacks for Gon, poking around in the cabinets and the pantry. Then he heard the apartment door open again. He flipped around, defensive. Who was it? Ging wasn’t due back from work for at least a few more hours. Walking slowly into the foyer, he rounded the corner, and saw Ging standing there.

“Ging?” Kite questioned, easing up a little. Ging looked up at him, setting down his briefcase before pulling at his tie.

“Hey Kite,” he said, tone unreadable. “How’s your day been going, man?” Kite blinked.

“Oh. Um. Fine. You’re-” He struggled to think of the right words. “You seem like you’re home early. How has your day been?”

“Terrible,” Ging said simply. “It’s been _terrible,_ Kite.” Kite didn’t miss the way he raised his voice, ever-so-slightly. If Kite hadn’t been paying attention, he would have missed it. Ging brushed past him, making his way into the kitchen. “You wouldn’t believe how terrible my day has been. First. I dropped about twenty pages of _shit_ that I had _just_ copied. Then, I spilled coffee on Pariston’s shirt, and we both missed a meeting because he was chewing me the hell out _._ He probably thinks I’m a complete jackass. After that, they told me to go on home. To _go on home._ I’m going to get _fired_ at this rate.” He pulled open the fridge violently, looking for something that Kite wasn’t sure they had.

Kite was about to respond when he heard something from behind him. He turned to see Gon standing in the doorway of his bedroom, and suddenly, the scene was all too familiar. He turned back to Ging, who was still pushing things around in the fridge.

“Ging,” he said slowly. “That sounds... terrible.” Ging turned to look at him.

“No shit, Sherlock,” he said sharply. His voice was a little louder again, again barely noticeable. Suddenly, Kite realized the meaning hiding behind Gon’s question. “Let’s try not to state the obvious, here.” And Kite was faced with a dilemma. Kurapika had said he helping; the last time Kite had _tried_ to help, he had done the wrong thing. Maybe Kurapika was right, about not dropping the ball.

“Ging, try to focus on what’s important,” Kite said, throwing a very pointed glance behind him. “It’s important not to focus on things that _don’t matter._ It’ll all work out.” Ging looked behind Kite, and his eyes widened a little bit in recognition. He threw Kite a grateful look.

“You’re right, man,” he said, standing. “First days are hard. Speaking first days… well, first couple of days, where’s that fluffball at? Hey Gon, my man! You seen that cat?” Gon bounded across the living room, coming to a skidding halt at the edge of the kitchen. Ging clapped him on the back.

“No, I haven’t seen Snowball in _years_! Are you gonna help me look for him, Daddy?”

“You bet I am, kid. Hey, go check your room really quick. I’m going to grab a water, then I’ll come help,” Ging answered, grinning. Gon beamed back at him, before taking back off to his room. Ging turned his attention back to Kite, sobering quickly. “Hey, thanks, man. I was getting carried away, wasn’t I? You’re right. Gonna focus on the important stuff. You want to help us look for this cat, or what? I bet if Gon got to, like, touch even one piece of his fur, he’d be set for life.” Kite nodded. Ging walked off, chuckling to himself. Kite followed after him.

They found Snowball behind the television stand. It seemed like that had become a favorite spot of his. Gon eventually gave up on trying to pet him, and the trio moved to the kitchen to make dinner together. Ging had quickly deemed it casserole night, so Kite was tasked with opening cans. It wasn’t a very engaging job, but he didn’t mind. Listening to Gon and Ging chatter while Ging fried up some ground beef and Gon threw in seasoning was calming, somehow. What should have a chaotic and nerve-wracking symphony was somehow a familiar old tune that set him at ease. He never remembered feeling so content, at the orphanage.

Maybe he should go see Mrs. Morow. Maybe he should have a long time ago. But that didn’t mean he wanted to remember. He’d rather forget everything, up until the point when he met Ging. There were so many memories, but they all seemed pointless; a life without Gon and Ging seemed pointless. It was a new chapter in his life; everything from before could be rewritten with new, happy memories, for as long as it lasted. Kite pushed away all his thoughts of Shoot and Knuckle. Nothing could be worth risking the family he had built up. Nothing could be worth sacrificing something that meant so much.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm sorry for the long wait between chapters, but I hope that I can get the next one out sooner. Your feedback means so much to me, so please leave you comments and suggestions below! Thanks again to my awesome beta Abby (@TwelfthPaldi).


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